Cross My Heart
by Shakespeare's Lemonade
Summary: This seemed too much to believe. As he felt his partner's pulse stop beating under his fingers and saw the blood on his wrists, he asked himself what went so wrong that he thought he had to do this. WARNING: rated M for suicide and graphic violence.
1. Prologue

"Cross My Heart"

Shakespeare's Lemonade

Rating: M for suicide themes, graphic violence

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Drama/Friendship

Summary: He always said he believed what was in front of his face, but this seemed too much to believe. As he felt his partner's pulse stop beating under his fingers and saw the blood on his wrists, he asked himself what went so wrong that he thought he had to do this.

Pairings: Chin/Malia, others TBA

A/N: This was sort of inspired by a small part of AZGirl's "The Choice" (which is a great story). Many thanks to her for all the well-considered feedback, honest criticism, and invaluable insights. Also thanks to Riter's Fury for giving me another perspective on this and encouraging me to go ahead with this story.

**Warning**: This is about a character contemplating an attempting suicide. It deals extensively with that topic and includes graphic violence. I know that a lot of people will be uncomfortable with this, so I encourage you to move on to another story if that is the case.

Also, I am aware that a lot of people might not like this story as a matter of preference. I completely understand that and don't expect everyone to like it. I welcome constructive criticism, and I won't take any review lightly. I ask in return that readers do not take this story lightly.

"_Cross my heart. Hope to make it out alive_

_Their helping hands look more like suicide_

_If I don't make it out, remember that I tried_

_Cross my heart. Hope to breathe this time."~Nevertheless_

_Prologue_

It wasn't a full funeral. He didn't expect it to be. After weeks of investigation, it was clear there was no way it was anything than what it appeared to be. No one wanted to believe it, least of all him. Everyone tried their best to find some other answer. But there was none.

He stood there in his dress uniform watching the casket being lowered into the ground. That was it then. It was over. But it wasn't. Life would go on. He had mounds of paperwork to do and stuff to go through.

Grace was crying. Kono was crying. Chin was too. Hell, he was even tearing up now, which was strange because he'd lasted this long.

Surprisingly Governor Denning showed up, though it was probably expected politically. He still looked angry.

Everyone he called friend, as well as some of those he used to work with showed up. If only he'd known.

The officers who investigated were there: #1 and #2. He'd never bothered to learn their names. They really were decent guys. He should have had them over for a beer to thank them for all their hard work. But he didn't.

He looked down at his hands, rough and calloused from years of carrying a gun. For a second he saw the blood seeping between them, staining the sand red. The image was gone as soon as it came.

But he'd never forget. He'd never stop wondering why. He'd never stop thinking he should have known.

There were letters. No final letter, but in each one the same sentiment ran throughout: _I'm sorry. I can't lose you too._

They were all addressed to him. HPD had gone over and over them, trying to find some inconsistency. Handwriting analysis tried and failed to prove that he didn't write them.

He did write them, and now he was dead. There was no evidence that someone set it up because no one did. He killed himself, plain and simple.

Only nothing was simple anymore. All he could do was wonder how the hell this happened, how he didn't see. It was so easy to look back and note the long sleeves rolled down, the one-word answers to baiting questions.

But he didn't see how much his friend and partner was dying on the inside. He'd never really been able to see past the layers of exterior he put up. Now it was all over, and he never would. Still the questions and guilt never stopped: _why, why; should have, should have..._

He knew there was no answer; there was no reason. He knew that in spite of what he should have done, there was no way to ever make atonement for this. He failed his best friend because he couldn't see past himself.

He saw now. He'd never assume anything ever again. If the strongest man he knew could come to this, what might the rest of those he loved do? He knew it wasn't like that, but he couldn't help thinking it.

There had been no end to the madness. Doctors, cops, lawyers... all the people you never want to see. They found out that he cashed out his life insurance. He'd willed everything to his partner. It wasn't like he had any family left anyway.

Only he did. He had Five-0 and all their friends. He had Grace. Not anymore. He had nothing but a pine box buried next to the rest of his family in the earth of the island he loved so much.

_One week earlier..._

He holds the knife at just the right angle and ghosts it over his skin. He's contemplated many times how easy this would be. It's not really fair that he should have to do it himself. He could have died on a mission years ago and been spared all this pain, could have been in the car with his mother and been spared any pain at all, could have died in prison. That would have been better than this, honestly.

But he didn't die, and now has to make that choice for himself. All the joking about having a death wish isn't far from the truth at all. It's exactly the truth.

_Why the knife,_ he wonders. _Knife's cleaner. Just blood. And I'll do it outside so they won't have anything to clean up._

No brain matter splattered on the model cars and football trophies. No blood staining the hardwood floor so deep he's never been able to get it out.

He does this countless times, like people read before bed, he traces his veins with the point of his knife, decides not to one more time, and puts the knife away and goes to sleep.

He never sleeps well. He's used to that.

In the morning, he gets up and does it all over again, hoping he might forget his flack vest or get shot by one of the many people who want him dead. It's ironic; people want to kill him, and he wants to be dead.

He wonders if things were different if he might want to live. If there weren't so many people out to get him, maybe he would see meaning to life. But it's so easily snuffed out. The people he loves are in danger every moment as long as he's alive. That's the most compelling reason.

He knows he'll do it eventually. It makes it harder to look Danny, Chin, or Kono in the eye as the days go by, but he's good at compartmentalizing. He can actually go an hour without thinking of it. Sometimes.

The time comes, and it feels sudden, but he knows it's not. He's thought of everything. He knows it will be hard for all of them, but he's put it off too long. He's known for a long time he would do it.

So, he empties his pockets of everything but the knife, takes off his shoes, and walks out to the beach. He doesn't write a note because the desk is full of them, and someone will find them soon enough.

He feels the sand under his feet and wonders how the hell he can do this. He hasn't stopped asking himself since the idea first occurred to him. That's why it's taken so long for him to decide it's time.

He lies down in the sand next to one of the chairs and takes the knife from his pocket. He thinks of all the enemies he's used it on, and recognizes the irony of using it on himself. By now, he just wants it to end. He's seen so much death and lost so many people he loves that he doesn't see a reason he should keep prolonging his and others' pain.

He relaxes against the lumpy sand. His mind goes back to nights on the beach with his family. This was where they lived, really lived. This is a fitting place for him to die.

He brings the knife to his left wrist. There are other scars from times he's almost done it before. After this, everyone will see them and know he'd thought about it for a long time. Danny will read the letters and understand why he has to do this. He's sure of it.

He clears his mind. He knows he cannot bring images to mind of his family or friends. He has to do this alone. As he draws the blade across his arm with the precision of a surgeon, he hears a familiar car pulling into his driveway. Switching the knife to his other hand and much more quickly, he grunts at the pain and makes the same cut, though considerably less precise. Dropping the slippery knife, he experiences a deeper sort of pain and can almost feel the life rushing out of him. He wonders, briefly, where it will go.

And as his consciousness fades, he hears himself whisper, "Sorry, Danno."


	2. Open Wounds

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate you all giving this story a chance.  
><strong>

**Chapter One "Open Wounds"**

"_**Downstairs the enemy sleeps  
>Leaving the TV on<br>Watching all the dreams we had turn into static  
>Doesn't matter what I do<br>Nothing's gonna change  
>I'm never good enough<br>And you can't stop me from falling apart  
>'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault.<br>How could you hate me?  
>When all I ever wanted to be was you?<br>How could you love me?  
>When all you ever gave me were open wounds?"~Skillet<strong>_

In the back of his mind, Danny thought that Steve might have been acting strangely lately. He gave a mental shrug. Maybe he'd get to the bottom of it tonight since he had nothing better to do. Nothing better to do. Those words would haunt him in the months to come.

Danny wasn't even supposed to be there that night. He was supposed to be picking up Grace. But Grace had the flu and wanted to stay with her mom. Danny understood. He didn't think Steve would mind him dropping by for the evening.

There were no lights on at Steve's house which was odd. Danny thought he might be on the beach so he headed that way. He saw the form of his partner lying in the sand before he realized something was wrong. He ran, but he wasn't fast enough.

There was a bloody knife in the sand next to Steve, and his wrists were bleeding from deep cuts. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be right.

Danny dropped to his knees and pulled off his belt without thinking, tying it around Steve's right arm. He put his phone on speaker and called 911. Danny had never been much of a multitasker. As he answered the dispatchers questions, he wrapped his hands around Steve's other arm. He didn't have a tie to use as a second tourniquet.

"Don't do this, Steve," he whispered as he felt the pulse still running in Steve's arm. "You don't want this..."

Danny always said he believed what was in front of his face, but this seemed too much to believe. This wasn't Steve. Maybe someone tried to make it look like he did it to himself. Maybe someone was trying to kill Steve. Because it just couldn't be that Steve did this to himself. It couldn't.

Yet, as he felt his partner's pulse stop beating under his fingers, Danny asked himself what went so horribly wrong that Steve felt like he had to do this. In his heart he knew. Steve wanted to die.

"Dammit, Steve, don't do this!" Danny shouted in his partner's face, but there was no response. "Wake up, Steve! You are not going to die! I won't let you!"

The ambulance arrived, and Danny was pulled away from Steve's body. His heart was beating faster than he thought possible, and he wished he could somehow transfer all that life to Steve.

They asked him more questions. _Was he conscious?_ No. _How long ago did his heart stop?_ Too long. They took Danny along in the ambulance, and they got Steve's heart beating again. Still Danny heard things that worried him.  
><em>Lost a lot of blood... Heart-rate unsteady... Unstable... Lost oxygen to the brain...<em>

Danny waited. He felt like the ride took too long. That Steve would be dead before a doctor could save him. But they made it to the ER at Queens Medical Center, and they took Steve away, leaving Danny alone in the waiting room.

He had calls to make. A lot of them. Chin and Kono were together, so at least he didn't have to say it twice.

"Steve's in the hospital," he said.

"What happened?" Chin asked, and Danny could hear Kono grabbing her keys in the background.

"I don't know," Danny said, his voice betraying his fears. "Slit writs, I..."

Danny heard Chin curse eloquently, and he thought he'd never heard the Hawaiian use such strong language.

"We'll be there soon," he said. "Hang in there, brah."

Danny didn't know what that meant. He was just waiting. Next he called the governor who was irritated at being disturbed, but equally concerned and promised to be there as soon as he could.

For a time, Danny was left to wonder what the hell went wrong. He sat in a squarish padded wooden chair and let his head fall into his hands.

He didn't have long to contemplate the catastrophe that was his life, however. A few HPD officers showed up to ask him questions. They'd processed the scene already. Steve's beach has been a crime scene far too many times.

"Detective?" one of the young officers said. He was nice enough about it. "We need to ask you a few question about what happened tonight."

"I know," Danny said. "I showed up around seven. The lights in the house were off, so I went around the back." It shouldn't have been this hard, but it was.

"What happened then, Detective?" the other officer asked.

"Then... I saw him on the ground."

"Detective, this is an official statement, so could you please be as specific as possible."

Danny nodded. He knew that. "I saw Steve McGarrett on the ground. His wrists were bleeding, and there was a knife next to his hand. His knife; I've seen it a million times. Then I tried to stop the bleeding and called for help."

"Was McGarrett conscious? Did you talk to him?" Officer #1 asked.

Danny shook his head. "No. He had a pulse when I found him, but... a little later his heart stopped. The EMTs got it started again."

"Can you think of a reason he would do this to himself?" #2 asked.

Danny sighed. "I don't know. To tell you the truth, he could have been hiding this from me and I wouldn't have known. Things have been... Well, I've been caught up in my own problems, and I haven't considered that he might be... I don't know, depressed. I guess what I'm saying is, he could have done this to himself. I don't know."

Danny felt horrible for admitting it. He couldn't really believe that Steve would try to kill himself. But there seemed to be no other reasonable explanation for what happened. Even in his cursory glace, Danny hadn't seen any signs of a struggle or defensive wounds. He knew Steve wouldn't just lie down and let someone do that to him.

Unless he really did want to die.

Danny shook his head as the officers left. Chin and Kono came in, and they didn't say anything as they sat down with Danny. When Governor Denning showed up, he wasn't so understanding. Danny explained what he told the officers, and while Chin and Kono listened sympathetically, Denning appeared more and more angry as he heard what Danny witnessed.

"How did this happen?" he demanded.

The three Five-0 members shook their heads, but Denning didn't seem to accept that.

"You all worked with him for over a year, and you're telling me you have no idea how this happened?" Denning looked to each one of them, but no one had an answer. It didn't really make sense even if they could imagine Steve undergoing enough stress to make him snap.

"You don't think it was a set up?" Chin asked Danny, sounding strangely hopeful.

Danny shook his head. "No defensive wounds. No signs of struggle. Unless he was drugged, which I guess we'll find out." Danny's voice faltered at the end of his sentence, and he fell into silence.

Denning saw the futility of asking further questions and began pacing the waiting room. Kono rested her hand on the arm of Danny's chair, and Chin leaned back against the wall. Eventually, Denning disappeared down the hall, and Danny assumed he'd used his incredible influence to check in on Steve.

**H-5-O**

He should have known. Months go by, and he never stops thinking it. _I should have known; I should have known; I should have known._

He could have saved his best friend. He should have. But he was so caught up in his own life. He didn't bother to wonder why Steve seemed so withdrawn. Damn it, he should have known!

Danny wasn't sure whether it was better that he got the chance to try to save Steve or if he would have felt better if he had spent the evening with Grace like he had planned. In the end, Danny decided that either way, he would still be beating himself up months later. He always would.

Chin told him he can't blame himself. That none of them had realized what was going on. It didn't make it any better. If Danny's faith hadn't been shaken before, it certainly was now. Chin suggested he talk to someone. And Danny did. Just not who Chin had in mind.

Danny didn't find solace in a shrink or close friend or priest. He went to Steve's beach. His beach now, technically. After Mary Ann was murdered, Steve made Danny his sole beneficiary. Danny now wondered if Steve hadn't been thinking ahead that long ago. He knew Steve blamed himself for her death. Enough to think the world was better off without him.

He'd keep the house. As much as it killed him to stay there, he wouldn't let it go. It was the only connection he had now. Well, that and Five-0, but neither would ever be the same.

"You ever hear of altruistic suicide?" Danny asked no one. The sound of his voice seemed small compared to the crashing waves. Danny sat down heavily in the sand. "Well, it's not," he said. "It never is."

There was no reply. Just as there had been none all the months Danny had been sitting there. Some days he shouted at the sky, while others, he whispered to himself. Neither form of communication yield any answers.

Danny would say, if anyone asked, that he was talking to himself. He wasn't. He was talking to Steve. To the one who would never, could never, answer. Steve was gone forever by his own hand, never to speak again.

And Danny realized how much Steve really did talk to him before. It wasn't like Danny, shouting and ranting, but it was constant. Danny had foolishly believed Steve would always be there. He sometimes worried about the danger from criminals or car accidents, but never this. Steve just wouldn't.

"No, you wouldn't do that," Danny said in his rational tone. "You'd never do that. You're..."

What? What was he that made him immune to all this? Danny always teased Steve about being superhuman. Maybe that's why Steve had never gotten help. His hero complex wouldn't let him, and the pressure got to be too much.

Danny cursed himself. It was his fault for not seeing past the surface of Steve's well-crafted mask. It always ended up being his fault.

And there was Chin's voice again: "_You can't blame yourself, brah."_

Danny kicked at the sand and ran his hands down his face. "Yes I can," he said to himself.


	3. Therapy

**Thank you to all those who have reviewed. To the anonymous reviewer who asked why I didn't label this a "deathfic," I have several reasons, one of which is that I didn't want to give everything away in the summary. The point of this story is to keep readers in suspense that they don't even know they're in. Well, now you do because I told you. Oh, well.  
><strong>

**Chapter Two "Therapy"**

"_**'Cause this is my therapy  
>'Cause you're the only one that's listening to me<br>This is my therapy  
>Let's call it what it is not what we were<br>With a death-grip on this life that's in transition  
>This is my therapy<br>'Cause you won't hear me out  
>and that makes God the only one who's left here listening."~Relient K<strong>_

Danny stared out the window of the his office as the therapist talked. She was the usual HPD shrink they all had to see every year. Governor Denning had instituted mandatory visits by all Five-0 members until she thought they were sufficiently shrunk. He didn't use that term, but Danny didn't really care enough to listen to what he actually said.

She was saying something about the illusion of control and how it sometimes drove people to things like this. Like she knew Steve. Like she had spent the last year by his side. Like she had read every letter in his round handwriting and knew exactly why he thought death was the only answer.

"Sorry to interrupt," Danny said. He wasn't really sorry. He hadn't really been listening. "But that's not why he did it. Nobody gets this, especially you. You have your textbook psychology answers, and I'm sure they served you well on all those damned midterms in grad school, but this isn't your textbook, and Steve's not some case study." He felt his vocal cords constrict. He would not cry in front of the therapist.

"Listen," he went on. "I know you're just trying to help, but you didn't know him, okay? He did it because he thought we'd all be safer. Because he was terrified of losing everyone else he loved. He knew that if he were dead, there would be no more vendetta against his family because they'd all be gone."

Danny ended his speech abruptly, realizing there was no more to say. He wasn't saying he agreed or thought Steve was right, but someone had to speak for him now that he couldn't anymore.

"Detective Williams..." the therapist resumed.

Danny wasn't listening. He knew that meant more visits, but he couldn't make himself even start to care. It didn't matter in the long run. A weekly meeting with someone who would talk at him for fifty minutes wasn't as bad as actually having to talk about it himself. Of course, she couldn't understand. No one could. Hell, he didn't.

**H-5-O**

Chin had perfected the air of the unaffected years ago. This wasn't really that different. Sure, he'd never lost someone he thought of as a brother to suicide, but he was practiced in the art of avoidance. He would get Dr. Florence's signature within a couple of weeks.

Chin felt sorry for Danny, but not enough to share in his weekly misery. At least, not the governor mandated sort. He had enough of his own though.

People probably thought Chin was coping well. They probably didn't know that he had faced the same thoughts, wondering if the world would be better off without him. He'd never gone further than wondering, but he understood. Maybe that actually made it easier for him.

He kept a close eye on Danny and Kono. They both took it hard, and he didn't blame them. If he were honest, he would confess it made him feel like giving up too. But they fought through it. Fought when forensics failed their hopes, when the governor turned over the Wo Fat case to the FBI, when Lori went back to Homeland Security without so much as a _nice knowing you_ to any of them.

Five-0 would last. Because of that, Steve would never really be dead. Chin knew it wasn't that simple, but it helped. It helped him.

**H-5-O**

Kono was trying her hardest to keep from exploding. Every day. She got to where once a week was really good. Normally, she could do it toward some suspect who was being an ass anyway, so no one cared. But Chin was always giving her that look. That_ I'm worried about you, Cos'_ look. Of course he was. He always was.

Kono tried not to think about how others were feeling because it only made her feel worse. But she noticed how Danny got quieter, and Chin got louder. It wasn't so much that anyone else would notice. No one else really knew them well enough.

Kamekona started giving her free shave ice, and she resented it. Max started complimenting her hair or her clothes. That just weirded her out.

After a few months, the rest of the world was back to normal. Five-0 was working again, two less. They worked better smaller anyway. Kono didn't really miss Lori all that much. She was fun and all, but not really part of the family.

But Kono worried. She worried that Five-0 would never really be family again because their leader was gone. He was like the big brother that kept everyone together. He was the one they were all there for. And now he was gone. Forever.

Kono didn't stop beating herself up about not seeing his pain. She just did it on the waves or on the job. She took more and more risks because a few bruises here and there were well deserved, she thought. And the exhaustion was the only thing that helped her sleep at night.

The shrink suggested pills for that. Kono just glared at her. She wouldn't be getting her release signed any time soon, but she couldn't bring herself to say all the right things to that woman. While Kono was sure Dr. Florence meant well, it didn't help. Nothing helped.

Danny didn't talk to Kono much anymore. He didn't really talk to anyone much. Just Chin, his new partner, and the governor, his new direct superior. Well, and Grace.

Kono would never say anything, but she knew he talked to Steve too. She had watched him sitting on the beach, seen his lips moving. She supposed he could have been praying, but she was pretty sure he wasn't on speaking terms with God. She thought that had more to do with Danny than it did to do with God. She understood that.

Kono rested her chin on her arms atop her desk. She felt like a bored high school student sitting through another lecture on the French Revolution. Dr. Florence looked increasingly irritated.

"Officer Kalakaua?" she asked softly. "Are you listening to me?"

Kono raised her eyes. "Uh, not really," she said. "All you do is talk."

"Would you like to?"

Kono shrugged. "About what?"

"How you feel about what happened. About Steve."

"I've talked about that... It's been thirteen weeks of this. What else do you want me to say?"

"What was he to you? How would you describe him?"

Kono wrapped her fingers around her narrow elbows. "Seriously? Uh... he was like my brother. Or something. He taught me nearly everything I know, and he took me seriously. He appreciated me... I don't know what you want."

"It's not about what I want, Kono," Dr. Florence said. "What do you _need_? I can't read your mind, but you have to want to be better before anything will change."

"_Better_?" Kono nearly spat the word. "Like this is some kind of disease you can cure? Probably the most important man in my life killed himself, and not a single one of us saw it coming. I mean, what's that?" Kono gestured with her hands, but didn't lift her head from the desk.

"What you're feeling is completely normal."

"Oh, shut up. There's nothing normal about this, and nothing you say is gonna change that."

Dr. Florence nodded and stood up. "I'll see you next week then."

As the glass door swung closed, Kono buried her face in her arms and groaned.

**H-5-O**

He paces inside himself. There isn't space enough for his long legs in this tiny room. But his mind paces. He scratches his arms because the healing cuts itch. He can't believe he does this. He doesn't know who he is. Has he ever known?

The days and weeks run together. He starts to wonder if he's even human, if he can feel remorse or regret. Sometimes he puts the cool chamber of the revolver against the side of his head, as if it could numb his bristly thoughts.

He works tirelessly. He can't remember what day it is or how long since he slept. It doesn't matter, really. Nothing matters.

The nihilism is starting to consume him. He wonders how it's possible for nothing to consume. Perhaps like a black hole. If there is nothing, he is not, and therefore, what is the use of thinking at all. He's not real. Nothing is real.

He didn't always think this way. There were days, weeks sometimes when he felt like the most alive, vibrant, real person imaginable. Days spent in the water or on his beach. Days with his family, biological or otherwise. Days with a woman he'd thought he loved.

But he's not sure if love is real either. He doesn't think so. If he'd really loved them... he doesn't know; love isn't real.


	4. Forgiveness

**Thanks to those of you who are sticking with this story, and thank you for all the reviews.**

**To the anonymous reviewer who asked me several questions: how am I supposed to respond to an anonymous review? To answer one of your questions, I have no idea why other people write sad stories, but I'm writing this one because it's something that stuck me and won't go away. I can't really explain it better than that because the process is very much reliant on my inspiration which cannot be explained. That said, I've had some amazing help from beta readers who "get" the story and have made it better by their influence.**

**As to some of the other questions I've had, the next chapter should answer some of them. So stick around a little longer.  
><strong>

**Clear as mud?  
><strong>

**Chapter Three "Forgiveness"**  
>"<em><strong>Forgiveness can be given when you think it can't<br>'Cause with every passing second comes a second chance  
>Oh, don't give up; it's not the end<br>There's hope for every fallen man  
>To pick themselves up when they think they can't<br>'Cause with every passing second comes a second chance."~Relient K**_

Danny stood in his office doorway, watching Dr. Florence leave. Chin had been free of her almost a month now. He and Kono were no closer to that goal. He had to remind himself he cared. That seeing the doctor every week was not a good thing. That they had to... move on?

He hated that phrase with as much passion as he used to hate Hawaii. People didn't move on. They became new people. They changed. That's what they needed. Danny hated change.

Chin had been in his own office, but he came out as Dr. Florence was leaving. He gave Danny a look, but Danny hadn't named Chin's facial expressions yet.

"Which one's that?" he asked. "You're face always looks the same."

Chin smirked. Well, as much as Chin did smirk. "It's the _when are you gonna suck it up and tell her what she wants to hear_ look," Chin said.

Danny shrugged. "I'm a terrible liar."

Chin nodded. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. Same as usual."

"You mind some company? I think Kono wants to come up too."

"Yeah, sure. You know you guys are always welcome." Danny let out a laugh-like breath. "It's practically your house too."

Chin smiled softly. "Yeah. We'll bring pizza and beer."

"Then you can live there. Rent free. Maybe a few chores around the house. Nothing serious."

Chin did his _I'm laughing on the inside _look. "I think Kono might take you up on that. Don't know how Charlie would feel though."

"Then he should ask her to live with him."

Chin frowned. "He has."

"Oh."

Danny knew he'd brought up a sensitive subject because Kono wasn't living with Charlie. He didn't really want to know more than that, but considering how well things were going before he could only assume.

"How's Gabby?" Chin changed the subject.

"Huh?" Danny said.

"Dr. Asano? Your girlfriend?"

"Um... We're not..."

"It didn't work out?"

"She's nice, but it never went anywhere."

"Oh."

"What about Malia? How's the baby doing?"

"Good." Chin nodded. "The morning sickness has almost passed."

Danny forced a smiled. "She want pizza too, or does that bother her?"

"No, she's got a movie night with her mom, so I'll be on my own. Just the four of us." Chin's faced turned into the horrified look of one who's just said exactly the wrong thing.

"Yeah." Danny nodded, his throat feeling scratchy. "The four of us."

**H-5-O**

Going into Steve's house with no Steve would never feel normal to Danny. It had felt empty before, knowing what happened to the rest of the family, but now it was a sort of vortex of echoing nothingness. Danny wasn't sure what that meant, but it wasn't at all nice.

Chin and Kono spent much of their free time there as well. Friday nights were almost exclusively Five-0 time. It was never the same though. Never would be.

The pizza was pepperoni, the only thing all three of them could agree on. With the beer it didn't matter so much. Dinner was always served on the back porch. Then Danny would go sit on the beach, and Chin and Kono would sit on the porch and drink and stare out to the ocean and try not to hear Danny talking to Steve.

This time was different. Kono got up from her chair, her beer bottle swinging from her hand, her long limbs moving lazily as she crossed the back lawn in the direction of the beach.

Chin followed her without a thought. The grass was cold on their feet, and the clouds had begun gathering overhead to make for a dramatic sunset in a few minutes.

Danny was quiet by the time they got to him. Kono sat on his left and Chin on his right. No one said anything until the sky turned blood-red and purple and golden.

Kono set her beer in the sand and leaned back on her hands. "We have to forgive him," she said, as if she were talking to the relentless waves that reminded her with every crash of what had happened here.

"What?" Danny said, like he hadn't heard her, like he hadn't understood, like he couldn't understand.

"She's right," Chin said, nodding. "It's the only way we'll get past this."

Danny's bare feet dug into his damp, sandy pant legs at the heels. "I don't... know what that means," he said. "What's... what's the point? Are we really the ones who got hurt? I mean..."

"We know what you mean, brah," Chin said placing a hand on Danny's arm. Then he nodded. "He did hurt us. He abandoned his family. So, yes, we do have to forgive him."

Danny crossed his arms over his knees. "How?" he said.

Kono put her arm around his waist, and Chin moved his over Danny's shoulders. They sat like that until it was almost dark, and Danny was losing feeling in his feet.

"Let him go," Kono said, crying openly. "Please."

Danny's head rested against his arms. His whole body shook, and he knew Chin and Kono could feel it. They knew how this was tearing him up inside. He had nothing to hide here. So, he let it out.

**H-5-O**

She doesn't know how this happened or how she feels about it. She doesn't understand. She's not sure if that's even possible. She doesn't talk to anyone about how she feels because she doesn't know. Sometimes, and it scares her, she doesn't feel anything. In the dark when she's alone, she doesn't think of him or how things used to be. It's like none of it ever happened.

When she's not terrified by the idea, she breaks down in tears because she's lost something she can't feel anymore. She can't wonder if he loves her because he never did. She can't contemplate telling him she loves him because he's gone, and he didn't care.

She doesn't dream about him. She doesn't even daydream. It makes it harder for her to believe any of it ever happened. It's as if she's living some alternate life with only residual memories from someone else who was never her.

No one asks her how she's doing. Not seriously anyway. It's the same old social normal as before because no one knows how much he meant to her. Or could have meant if she'd realized it in time.

Her life goes on as before, but even when she doesn't notice how she's changed, she's never the same. She's come to expect it that way. She realizes that even her closest friends aren't close enough to see what's happening, and she knows that's what happened to him too. She was his closest friend, but she was oceans away while he was bleeding out all over the sand where they had spent so many lazy evenings.

She wishes, with those thoughts, that she could remember the taste of his lips or his salty warm smell. She wishes she could still feel his hard body next to hers. She wishes she could still believe he was invincible.


	5. Hymn For the Missing

**Thanks for all the great reviews. I'm really grateful to all of you for staying with this story.**

**To the anonymous reviewer who said using Steve as one of the characters for this story was a ploy to get readers: it is very difficult to offend me. Congratulations. You have done what very few can. Steve is the character for this story because it's about him.**

**To the other anonymous reviewer who was so encouraging: you remind me why I allow anonymous reviews.  
><strong>

**Chapter Four "Hymn For The Missing"**  
>"<em><strong>Thought you were beside me<br>But I reached and you were gone  
>Sometimes I hear you calling from some lost and distant shore<br>I hear you crying softly for the way it was before  
>Where are you now? Are you lost? Will I find you again?<br>Are you alone? Are you afraid? Are you searching for me?  
>Why did you go? I had to stay. Now I'm reaching for you<br>Will you wait? Will you wait? Will I see you again?"~Red**_

Danny didn't just feel better all of the sudden. He didn't stop talking to Steve. The conversations got a little more subdued though. And sometimes, he felt like he could hear a response. Just in his imagination, but he had so many memories from which to draw.

He stopped telling himself that he never really knew Steve. He did. He had. Steve just got lost and stayed lost.

The sting of the shock wore off eventually and left in it's place the dull, pulsing ache of the loss. Steve was still gone and always would be. Danny was able to function normally again. Dr. Florence finally set him free.

It wasn't like Danny woke up in the morning and looked forward to every day, but he'd never been like that. He smiled again; he laughed sometimes. He played on the beach with Grace, and he didn't always have to think of all the horrible things that had happened.

Happiness was sporadic. He felt a twinge of loneliness as he fell asleep at night. And sometimes he would still walk into the office in the morning and expect to see that dark head bent over the desk in the big office. He got tired of driving so much.

And then there was Denning. Danny hadn't disliked him at first, but since Steve died, they hadn't gotten along so well. Denning was more restrictive about what Five-0 could and couldn't do. They had to account for themselves much more often. Danny understood it was the result of losing Steve and of Lori leaving, but the total lack of feeling Denning had shown about everything was infuriating. And, of course, there was the whole Dr. Florence issue.

Still, Danny was surprised when Max showed up in his office a few weeks after the night on the beach with Chin and Kono. He looked hesitant as he stood in the doorway.

"Something I can help you with, Max?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Max nodded, coming a few more steps into the room. "I feel that a suitable interval has passed," he said, "and that it is now appropriate for me to ask a question that has been bothering me."

"What's that?"

"Why was I not permitted to perform Commander McGarrett's autopsy?" Always to the point.

"Uh..." Danny wasn't sure how to answer. "You know, Max, I wasn't involved in that. Five-0 didn't investigate it because he was one of us. I think maybe they knew how close you were to him, and they wanted someone more objective. I don't know."

Max looked surprised, frowned, and then smiled softly. "He was my friend," he said. The words were so simple but profound coming from Max.

Danny nodded. "He trusted you. For what it's worth, I think he'd have wanted you to do it."

Then Max really did smile. "Thank you, Detective Williams. That... means a lot."

"You're welcome, Max."

**H-5-O**

Malia flipped the page, but she was looking over the edge of the book. Chin was well aware that she was watching him, but he didn't let on. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but she would tell him soon enough.

Chin could imagine. Over the past several months there was the inevitable question of whether he was all right. There were worried looks, nights spent awake because neither of them could sleep. But it was passing, and Malia surprised him.

"I want to know whether it's a boy or girl," she said.

Chin looked over at her from his chair opposite the couch, watching her growing belly rise and fall with each breath. "Why's that?" he asked with as much nonchalance as he could manage. It was hard to be nonchalant about the fact that he was having a child with her.

"Because..." She frowned and blew a stray hair out of her face in frustration. "Because I think Steven Daniel Kelly is a great name, and I can't stand the suspense."

Chin had to try not to laugh. He got up from his chair and went to the end table by Malia's feet. He took out a small envelope and brought it over to her.

He help it between his fingers. "You're absolutely sure about this?" he asked.

Malia nodded. "I want to know."

Chin opened the flap. "And if it's a girl, you won't be disappointed?"

"It'll give us time to come up with something else."

Chin smiled and pulled the picture out of the envelope. "No turning back now," he said.

Malia reached for his hand. He turned the picture so she could see it first. Taking a deep breath, Malia looked at the picture of her baby and the words scrawled at the bottom:

_It's a boy!_

**H-5-O**

Kono kicked at the sand with her feet as Charlie stood a little further away than normal. He was talking, but she couldn't hear him. Inside her head was a sort of confusion for which she had no name. Just what exactly was going on?

"...in another world, Kono," Charlie was saying. "It's like you don't know me sometimes, like I'm invisible."

Kono met his eyes. That was the first thing he said that made sense. "I don't," she said. "Know you, I mean. I don't know anything. I'm... Not back on planet Earth yet; you're right."

"Then what can I do to get you here?" Charlie was pleading. He was trying to save them.

Kono shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "You can't fix me, Charlie. It's... something I have to figure out."

Charlie tilted his head up, like he wanted to role his eyes. "Why?" he demanded. "Why can't I help?"

"I don't know!" Kono pushed her hair back, but only succeeded in making it fall awkwardly over her eyes again.

"It's like I'm not connected to anything but my team."

Then Charlie nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. "You loved him more than you love me."

Kono's eyes widened. "That is _not_ the same thing."

"Then what is it? You were always closer to him."

"He's dead! He was my family, a part of me I can't separate from myself. He made me who I am."

"Who are you then? Are you nothing on your own?"

Kono shook her head. "You don't understand."

"Yeah I do. You love me, but not enough. I'm not the only person you can't live without."

"There's no one I can't live without."

"Yeah? Do you call this living?"

Kono bit her lip and stared out at the ocean. "I'm getting there. Alone."

Charlie nodded. "That's what I thought. So we understand each other?"

"Yeah. You're free."

"I never wanted that."

"You will. We were never... never everything."

**H-5-O**

His arms are scarred up and down from his attempts to escape. He's not sure whether he really wants to die or just feel the pain. It doesn't really matter all that much anymore. If he dies, no one will care; no one will know. The ones he loved already lost him. He wonders if they would know if he died. He thinks not. No need to make them suffer all over again.

He's made them suffer too much already. Maybe they can move on not knowing how he actually died. However, that is actually still up for debate. How he will die, that is.

He can't deny that he wanted to die that night. He had for a long time. Longer than he would admit then or now. He's never told anyone, of course. He can't, and now he doesn't have to.

There is no one to tell anything. He's completely on his own. The tiny little apartment on Maui isn't home by any stretch of the imagination, but it's safe and quiet.

His resources are not unlimited, but they might as well be. He has everything he needs to exact justice without interference. He's trained for this. It's not hard.

But somehow it is. There's something very wrong inside his head, and he can't get rid of it no matter what he does. No matter how much he bleeds. There is no relief, no help, no comfort. He is alone.

There are times he has to purposefully distance himself. He has to eat, but avoids going to the same store twice in a row or on the same day of the week. He mostly goes places at night because he doesn't have a car and doesn't want to be seen walking around a lot.

Sometimes, a kindhearted person tries to make conversation with him. The girl behind the checkout counter or the old man he holds the door for. It's all a reminder that he can't be a real person anymore. Not that he wants to. Not really.

He's not sure what he wants anymore, but he's never been able to resist the promise of power to get the justice he needs. But if he were dead, he wouldn't know the difference.

He isn't dead. He does know the difference. The scars stand out on his arms and scream at him that he is still alive, and that means something even though he can't figure out what it is. The scars, some fresh, some months, even years old, though he would never admit that even to himself.

He knows he's just lost. Really, really lost. He knows there's a place where he doesn't have to feel like this, but he can't find it anymore in his head or in the world outside of him.

The ever-present voice in his head that shouts at him that he needs help is getting louder. It's a familiar voice, but it's lost all its friendliness and turned slowly to condemnation and ridicule. It's what he always imagined was under that teasing exterior anyway.

The time for his first check-in has come. He doesn't really want to talk to anyone, but he calls anyway. Something about that power is still so irresistible.

"Denning," comes the answer.

He doesn't say anything for a second, forgetting what it was like to talk to someone he knew. "It's McGarrett," he says.

There is silence for a moment, and he assumes Denning is clearing the room to prevent compromising the mission.

"How's it coming?" Denning finally asks.

And it's as if nothing ever happened. They're just having a conversation about a usual case. It's disgusting.

Denning gives his orders and hangs up, and Steve drops the prepaid cell phone on the tiny table in his tiny apartment on Maui.

* * *

><p>I told you all was not as it seemed.<p> 


	6. My Home

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and encouragement. Especially thank you to Riter's Fury, without whom Ryan would not exist. I'd love to know what you all think of him.**

**Some things in this chapter deviate from the show because I wrote it before Joe left, so he's still around.  
><strong>

**Chapter Five "My Home"**  
>"<strong>I've done a few things I wasn't proud of<br>I've said a few things that hurt you  
>But you're still the only one who fills me up<br>And every night spent alone was worth it  
>You are my home; you are my everything when I feel so alone<br>You are my home; you are my shelter when all my hope is gone."~Thousand Foot Krutch**

Danny was used to being alone, but he never liked it. He'd gotten to where he expected the empty echoing in the house, the phantom noises that were only old, creaking wood or the breeze against the door.

Only this time, there really was a knock. He so rarely had visitors that Danny was immediately concerned. He left his dirty dishes in the sink and headed for the door.

On the other side, Kono stood, dressed in her beach clothes and looking upset.

"What's wrong?" Danny asked. What wasn't wrong, but he thought he'd start with an easy question.

Kono gestured limply with one hand and half shrugged. "Charlie... um... we're not..."

Danny nodded and opened his arms. He let her cry. It was a lot easier now. He didn't have to be told what happened. He knew. The same thing that had happened with him and Gabby, only Kono had known Charlie a lot longer.

As they stood there in the door, Danny rubbing circles in Kono's shoulders, Kono crying softly, things sort of fell into place. It felt so normal for him to pick her up off her feet. She was taller than him, but she was so light. Too light. It felt right to carry her up the stairs, lay her on Steve's bed, and lie next to her, holding her as she continued to weep.

Kono would come down eventually. She'd apologize for being so emotional, brush it off, act like it was no big deal.

Danny knew that it wasn't losing Charlie that was such a big deal anyway. It was why she lost him. She probably thought she had failed somehow. That she would never be able to make a relationship work.

Danny understood the feeling more than he wanted to admit. He'd often wondered if he were just destined to be alone forever. And more alone now.

Still, as he laid there with Kono sobbing in his arms, Danny didn't feel alone at all. Steve was gone; he'd never be back. But Danny wasn't alone.

**H-5-O**

The first week Steve was in Kahului he met one of his neighbors. He was well aware of everyone who lived in his building. Of everyone who lived on the block. He learned as much as he could about them and then did his best to avoid them.

He was a young man who worked on a fishing boat. As far as Steve could trace, he had lived in the apartment two doors down from Steve for the last three years.

The apartment in between them was vacant. Someone had died there, and the police were still investigating. Apparently, people dying in this building was not unusual.

Steve concluded that the only reason he had not met this boy earlier was that he hadn't had a day off since Steve arrived. But one fine Saturday morning, he showed up at Steve's door with a plate of cookies. It was like a bad movie, except their surroundings were definitely not up to Hollywood standards. Maybe one of those weird independent films.

"Hi," he said with no put on brightness as Steve opened the door. "I'm Ryan Hunter; I live down the hall. Just wanted to welcome you to the building."

He offered the plate and smiled.

"Thanks," Steve said, trying to smile back. Trying to remember how. "Uh, I'm Sam." He stepped aside to invite Ryan in. He wasn't supposed to do stuff like that, but it was polite, and he didn't want to be conspicuous.

Ryan was tall, too thin maybe, tanned from working in the sun. He looked really young, but his gray eyes had the sort of light that made Steve think he had been through his own hell and managed to come out of it alive.

Maybe Steve was reading too much into things.

"So are you from the mainland?" he asked looking around Steve's sparse apartment that could hardly have been any different from his own.

"Uh, yeah," Steve replied. "Southern California."

"What brought you to this hole in the wall?" There was a joking tone in his voice which permitted a joking answer. Or the truth.

"Change," he said, shrugging. It was an honest enough answer. "This isn't permanent."

Ryan shook his head. "No, it's not," he agreed.

"You've been here a while?" Steve asked.

"Three years, four months, and twelve days."

"Hate it that much?"

"No. I just have to remember where I've come from, you know."

"No, but okay."

"It's not that important; it's who I was there."

Steve nodded. "I know what you mean. Identity is... elusive."

"I would say changeable," Ryan said, turning away from the small window and back to Steve. His light brown hair reflected in the sunbeam as he did. "I think our identities are what we choose to do with ourselves."

"Sometimes."

Ryan shook his head. "All the time."

**H-5-O**

Danny really wished he had ice cream or something because Kono liked that sort of stuff. She didn't say anything as she got up off the bed and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Danny leaned against the headboard and gave a resistant sigh.

Kono came back into the room, looking drained. Her normally vivacious eyes were dull. She wrapped her arms around herself, her thin sleeves doing nothing to stifle the single shiver that shook her body. Her tiny shorts seemed to hang too loosely. She was withering.

Danny sat with his hands under his knees and watched her for a moment. She didn't move from the doorway, but stared out the window as if looking for something.

"I need to go see Joe," Danny said, breaking her reverie. "You want to come, or..."

Kono shook her head. "No, I think I'll just stay here and... huh, talk to Steve?"

Danny stood up and gestured weakly with one hand. "Let me know what he says."

Kono nodded. "I will."

Leaving the house, Danny would often imagine he was going home after a celebratory beer with his partner. That was as far as he ever got since he didn't have anywhere to go. Nowhere on this island had ever been home to him except that damned beach with his idiot partner. There he felt safe. There he felt loved.

The drive to Joe's apartment complex was painfully slow. Danny couldn't remember ever having gone there alone. He'd never driven any of those times. As it was, Danny drove his car far too often for his own liking.

It took a minute for Joe to answer the door, probably checking for machine gun wielding enemies around the perimeter. His paranoia used to be annoying. Like Steve's. Now it was just a reminder that they really were out to get you.

When the door opened, Joe looked suitably surprised. He raised his eyebrows and stood aside to let Danny in.

"I should get you the number of my ex-wife's interior decorator," Danny said, gesturing around Joe's apartment. Minimalist would have been a compliment. Dead would have been accurate.

"I'll be sure to take that into consideration next time I do renovations," Joe said, crossing his arms and leaning against the small table. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Danny put his hands together. "I was just wondering if you were getting tired of retirement yet."

"I was tired of retirement before I was retired. What do you intend to do about it?"

"Well, I may have a position open on an extremely elite task force, and right now you are one of the people I can count on one hand." Danny held up his right hand facing himself. "That I can trust."

Joe pressed his lips together in a mask of impassivity. "What would that entail?"

Danny spread out his hands. "Basically you do whatever needs done. You seem good at that."

"I am."

"So? You in?"

"Just one thing. There's another reason I was the only candidate, isn't there?"

Danny nodded. "Naturally," he said in his trademark mumble. "Steve brought you in. You're already Five-0 as far as we're concerned."

Joe nodded. "When do I start?"


	7. Let it Burn

**Thanks for all the reviews. You guys are the best. I think this is my favorite chapter so far, so I'd love to know what you think.  
><strong>

**Chapter Six "Let It Burn"**  
>"<em><strong>How long can you stand the pain?<br>How long will you hide your face?  
>How long will you be afraid?<br>Are you afraid?  
>How long will you play this game?<br>Will you fight, or will you walk away?  
>How long will you let it burn?"~Red<strong>_

Steve found himself spending his considerable downtime at a small beach outside of the city. He bought a surfboard and told Denning it was for reconnaissance. He probably would have allowed it anyway, but Steve was not in the habit of showing what might be considered weakness in front of his boss. Not after the last time.

"_You really screwed yourself over, McGarrett," Denning said, standing with his hands behind him and his back to Steve._

_He was staring out the window into what, Steve didn't care. He wanted to leap out of the bed and strangle the man who had never given a rat's ass about him anyway. He didn't. He didn't have the energy to do anything but wish this was some kind of hallucination between life and death. He'd have preferred to see almost anyone else, but he probably didn't get to be selective._

"_Are you going to explain this?" Denning turned around. He looked a little too real. Too lifelike._

"_No," Steve said. Why bother? But he did. "It's fubar."_

_Denning gave him a steely glare._

_"You want me to spell it out for you? I will."_

_Denning held up a hand. "That's quite enough," he said. "Are you done? Because we have a lot of work to do."_

"_What the hell are you talking about?" Insubordination was irrelevant; he was dead._

"_You're death. It's more convenient than I initially thought. Now, don't get me wrong, under normal circumstances, I'd fire your ass for being so stupid, but ironically, you've presented yourself with an opportunity."_

"_I'm supposed to care?"_

"_You should. You want Wo Fat? He's the reason for all this drama? Now's your chance."_

"_Remember when I asked what the hell you were talking about? I still want to know."_

"_You're dead. As far as anyone knows at this point. You can go after him in peace. I'll reassign Five-0. He won't bother them anymore. It's perfect."_

"_In what world is that perfect?"_

"_Considering what you just did, I'd say yours."_

"_So, I'm dead, but I'm not dead. Shit."_

"_So you'll do it?"_

_"Of course I will. Fire me all you want when it's over; I don't care."_

Steve was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of crashing waves suddenly seeming much closer. He saw a boy catch air on his surfboard and thought it looked a lot like pictures his mother had taken of him when he was younger.

Steve immediately put that image out of his mind. The boy was coming out of the water now. It was Ryan. The boy who made cookies on his days off from the fishing boat. The boy who lived next to the apartment where someone died which was next to where Steve had been living for several weeks.

Probably weeks. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.

"Hey!" Ryan called, dragging his board and running up to Steve. "You surf?" He was eying Steve's board.

"Yeah, a little," Steve said.

"Bet the California waves have nothing on this?" He gestured widely, grinning like a kid at Christmas. Steve was reminded of Kono.

"No," he said, blocking yet another image. "Not the same, anyway."

"Well come on. Let's see what ya got."

Ryan ran back to the waves leaving no room for refusal. The thought never seemed to enter his mind. The kid's enthusiasm was infectious, but it wasn't unconscious. Steve could tell. Steve had been that boy far too many times.

**H-5-O**

When Danny finally got back, Kono was still out on the beach, sitting cross-legged next to the fire pit. Danny went inside and grabbed them some beers before heading out to meet her.

As he got closer, he saw a stack of papers in the sand in front of her. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Kono looked up at him and took the offered drink. "Trying to figure it out," she said. "I know we did this already. I just..."

Danny sat down, but didn't say anything.

"I thought I had it figured out, you know?" Kono went on. "That we had to let him go, to give him up, but something still eats at me, and I can't stop it."

"I don't think you're supposed to," Danny said.

"But I can't freaking live like this! I can't be 'Kono' like this. I'm... something else. Nothing. I don't know."

"You are not nothing. Steve helped make you who you are, and it's that part of him that can live on. Not die with him and take you too."

Kono tossed one of the letters in Danny's lap. "This one makes the most sense," she said. Then she threw the rest in the fire pit. There were no flames, but it didn't matter.

Danny looked at the wrinkled, tear-stained page in his hands. He'd read it countless times, trying to make sense of Steve's choice. It still wasn't right. But this was the closest thing they had to an explanation.

_Dear Danny,_

_I can't believe I'm writing this. Just the writing part, not the actual... Anyway, I know you're gonna blame yourself, all of you, but don't. None of this is your fault. It's Wo Fat. It's Mary. It's Dad and Mom and Jenna and... everything, you know? I can't explain this in a way that will make sense to anyone but me because it's taken me this long to make sense of it myself._

_I just want you to know that I love all of you, and if I thought you were safe with me alive, I'd never... But you're not, and Danny, I can't lose you too. I can't even describe what that thought has done to me every night since I got that call. Since they told me my sister was dead. I can't lose my brother too._

_Tell Grace I loved her. I always, always loved her, and I know she loved me too, and I'm so, so sorry. If there were any other way..._

_There is no other way. I can't stop him, Danny. No one can stop him, or no one will._

_I'm not really alive anymore. I know I put on a good mask. I know you can't tell or you'd be shaking me and slapping my head and telling me to get help, and really meaning it. I know sometimes you mean it and others you don't._

_It's too late for help. No one can help. There's nothing you or anyone else could have done. This is not your fault. It's me and Wo Fat. I can't exist while he does. I physically cannot do it._

_I know you won't take my word for all of this. You'll tell yourself there was something that could have stopped this. That nothing's really that hopeless. Truth is, I don't even know what hope means. Is it something people just invented so they can go on living while the world has gone to hell?_

_I've seen a lot of things no one should ever have to. I don't deny they stay with me, but I'd do it all again because it meant something. But all it means now is that my family, the only people I love are going to die because someone out there hates me._

_Hate. That's real. The most real thing I can grasp. I've only hated four people in my life. Wo Fat. Hiro Noshimuri. Victor Hesse. John McGarrett. Now I only really hate one, but it's all that matters._

_For what it's worth, I loved you. I used to know what that was. It used to mean something. Now it means I have to die. This is for you Danny. My brother. My friend. The only person I can't stand to lose now. The only person he would take away from me._

_I love Chin and Kono too. I always have, but they're not you. I want them to be happy. They've taken so much bullshit from everyone. Now they're clear, though. Now they can live. You too. You'll probably get the job. Please take it. Please don't give up on all the good you can still do._

_When it comes, you'll find this. You'll try to believe someone set it up. That I would never really... But it's real, Danny. I did it. I made this choice, and there's no going back._

_It's over._

_Steve_


	8. Who We Are

**Thanks to all those who reviewed. I'm so glad you've stuck with this story. I am hard at work (in my head) on chapter eight, but it's coming slowly. Hopefully, I will have it done by next week.**

**Oh, and yes, I am obsessed with Red, but the next chapter will have a title and quote from someone else. I promise.  
><strong>

**Chapter Seven "Who We Are"  
><strong>

_**"We were the ones who weren't afraid**_  
><em><strong>We were the broken hearted<strong>_  
><em><strong>We were the scars that wouldn't fade away<strong>_  
><em><strong>How did we let go<strong>_  
><em><strong>How did we forget that we don't have to hide<strong>_  
><em><strong>We won't believe the lies again<strong>_  
><em><strong>We won't be paralyzed<strong>_

_**We can be who we are**_  
><em><strong>Now we are alive<strong>_  
><em><strong>We can fight they cannot contain us<strong>_  
><em><strong>It's who we are<strong>_  
><em><strong>We are undying<strong>_  
><em><strong>We are forever"~Red<strong>_

When Danny and Kono got to work the next morning, Chin already had a new case in progress. The computer screens were full of images of crime scenes.

Chin turned to greet them. "How you doing, Cos'?" he asked.

Kono shrugged it off. "What's this?"

Chin nodded and went back to the table. "These are crime scenes from Maui, Molokai, and Kauai. Same MO. And get this: all of the scenes with security footage showed the same thing."

Chin played a video of a man in dark clothes walking up and shooting the victim in the head. The man's hair hung in his eyes, and shadows obscured his face.

"Kono, think you could clean up the video?" Danny asked.

"Maybe," she replied thoughtfully. "What else do you have?"

"Local police thought it might be a serial killer," Chin said. "That's why they called us. Most of the victims were Asian males, all shot in the head, but some of them show signs of... interrogation."

"You mean torture?" Danny said.

"Yeah, but forensics thinks they were questioned. His methods were textbook. Not your usual sadist getting kicks."

Danny stared at the pictured for a moment. "No," he said shaking his head. "This guy wanted something. He's probably ex-military considering his knowledge of interrogation techniques. What other connection could the victims have?"

Chin shook his head. "We don't know that."

"Okay, let's put together a team," Danny said. "You and I will go to Maui, and we'll send Joe and the others to Molokai and Kauai."

Chin nodded. "I know some guys we could ask. Be back in an hour." Chin headed for the door.

Danny turned to Kono who was already working on the security footage.

"Got anything?" he asked.

Kono shook her head, biting her lip. "Not yet. It's really low quality. ATM cameras often are."

"You think you can do it though?"

Kono shrugged. "It's a 50/50 chance right now. I'll let you know."

"Okay. Since we'll be island hoping today, we'll be in constant contact with you. Probably feeding you lots of irrelevant information."

"Danny, I'll be fine. Just go catch this guy."

"All right. Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Take a break once in a while, okay?"

Kono nodded, smiling weakly. "Okay."

**H-5-O**

Danny felt the d_éjà vu_ smash into him like he'd thrown himself off a 100-story building and just hit the pavement.

His and Chin's first stop was the Kahului morgue. The three victims on this island were laid next to each other for the detectives to inspect.

"As you can see," the M.E. was saying, "victims 2 and 3 were only shot, but the first sustained other injuries."

Danny looked over the bruises and burns on the first victim. He couldn't turn away.

"You seeing what I see?" Chin asked.

Danny nodded. "North Korea," he said.

Danny knew that somewhere over the ocean, Joe was seeing the same things too, only the guys he was working with would have no clue what it was.

As they left the morgue, Danny started gesturing before he began talking.

"What do we know about this guy?" he said. "White male, 30-40, dark hair, killed seven people that we know of, used the same torture methods as Wo Fat used on..."

Chin nodded. "Something doesn't add up," he said. "So let's go look at the crime scenes and head back. We need to find out what these victims had in common."

They didn't expect to find much at said crime scenes. They went anyway. The first victim was a taxi driver who had been found in his cab one morning. Friends reported seeing him alive and well the night before.

The cab was now in the possession of the local police, though they suspected it was not the primary crime scene due to very little blood or signs of torture.

Danny began walking through things. "So our guy grabs the taxi driver, tortures him, shoots him in the head, and dumps him in his own cab on the side of the road."

Chin nodded. "I'd say that about covers it."

"But why? That's what still bothers me," Danny said. "Why kill all these people and only torture some of them?"

"Maybe he only tortures when he can't get enough out of killing them?"

Danny shook his head. "No, this kind of stuff always escalates. He would kill first, then build up to torture. He must want something from them. Maybe the others gave up easier or didn't know or have what he wanted."

Chin's phone rang, and he put it on speaker.

"I think I may have found a connection," Kono said.

"What's that?" Danny asked.

"All our vics are from Maui. The other four were either dumped or went on trips their families didn't know about."

"So he's trying to throw off the police?" Chin wondered.

"Or following them," Danny speculated.

"There's one more thing," Kono said. "All of the victims have alleged ties to, get this, the Yakuza."

"A gang war?" Chin said.

"No, this guy's a lone wolf," Kono said. "Could be a vigilante trying to clean up."

"Could be," Danny said. "You get anything on that video?"

"It's slow going, brah. I'll let you know when I get something we can use."

"Thanks, Kono," Chin said and hung up. "What do you think?" he asked Danny.

Danny paced the floor between the cab and a small table. "Guy operates out of Maui," he said, gesturing with one hand. "He's killing Yakuza. Interrogating some of them. He's bold, doesn't fear the police. He's after something or someone, and he's not getting it."

Chin nodded. "He's not done."

Danny shook his head. "He's not done."

**H-5-O**

Steve checked the man's pulse. None. Good. He put away his gun and walked out of the alley into the bright afternoon sun. Looking up and down the street, he took the opposite direction from which he came. Avoiding patterns took time, but it was worth it to keep people guessing.

He found a convenience store and bought a bottle of water. As he started to leave, he heard a conversation in the background.

"Hey, man, you hear about those murders?"

"Yeah, weren't there some on other islands too?"

"Yeah, and Five-0's on it now."

"Seriously? Damn."

Steve quickened his pace when he got outside. This was not good. Five-0? What was Denning thinking?

When he finally got back to his apartment, Steve was ready to give his boss a piece of his mind. There was no way he could continue working with Danny, Chin, and Kono breathing down his neck. They'd figure it out too soon.

But as he shoved his key into the lock, he heard the door down the hallway open and close and sensed the somewhat indignant posture of the young man standing there.

"Sam?"

He looked up from his door. Ryan was standing outside his, surfboard under his arm.

"You're late," he said.

Steve gave him a blank stare. Better to pretend he had forgotten than try to explain why he was late.

"Surfing? You said you'd come today. I only have one day off."

He did promise.

"Just a minute," he said.

Steve ducked inside and lost the gun. It wouldn't do for Ryan to see that. He changed into his shorts and grabbed his board.

Ryan had the most beat up clunker of a car. Their surfboards were tied to the roof through the front windows, which wouldn't close. It was a sort of yellow color, but Steve couldn't be sure if that was intentional or a result of heavy weathering.

They arrived at the beach where Steve had met Ryan unexpectedly a few weeks before. After that day they had agreed to go surfing on Ryan's days off, which weren't many. Afterward, Ryan usually wanted to make dinner. Steve often tried to refuse, but he sensed that it was something Ryan really wanted to do. For as young as he was, he was a great cook. And Steve knew that cooking alone was no fun at all.

Being two men of seemingly endless energy, they day was nearly gone before they tired. Dragging their boards back up onto the sand, and giving satisfied sighs as they sat down to watch the sun set, Steve and Ryan felt good.

"So why are you here?" Steve asked suddenly.

"What?" Ryan replied.

"When we first met you asked what brought me here."

"And it's taken you this long to ask me?"

"What can I say? It takes me a while to warm up."

"I noticed. You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking for my mom."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah. She left when I was a kid, and this was the last place I could find that she was."

"When do you find time to do that?"

"Mostly after work. The day starts early, so we get done sooner than government agencies close. Still no luck though."

"What was her name?"

Ryan gave Steve a curious look. "Sarah."

Steve nodded. "How old were you?"

"Five."

"Wow. That's... not a lot of time."

"No. I still remember her and all, I just... I want to ask her why she left me. I don't know if she'll have a good answer, but I want to know."

"So where's your dad?"

Ryan didn't answer for a moment. "He's dead. Three years ago."

Steve knew very well that there was nothing to say. Even for someone who had lost his own parents, he could not find words that would make Ryan understand. And he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine about it anyway.

"My parents died too," he finally said. "I hope you find your mom."


	9. Cut

**Thanks to my faithful betas, AZGirl and Riter's Fury. This story would not be what it is without them. I'm sorry I haven't been responding to all the reviews, but I do appreciate you, and I love to know what you're thinking of this story.  
><strong>

**Chapter Eight "Cut"**

"**I may seem crazy or painfully shy  
>And these scars wouldn't be so hidden if you would just look me in the eye<br>I feel alone here and cold here, though I don't want to die  
>But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside<strong>**  
>I do not wanna be afraid<br>I do not wanna die inside just to breathe in  
>I'm tired of feeling so numb<br>Relief exists; I found it when I was cut."~Plumb**

Joe White pushed back the feeling of revulsion as he turned away from the latest victim on the M.E.'s table. It wasn't that the sight itself was so shocking to him, but the similarities to the injuries suffered by a man who was like his son were too close. Joe knew if Steve had been alive, he wouldn't have felt this way. It still would have been bad, but not this bad.

Part of what scared him was not knowing why. The bruise patterns and burns were too identical to the hospital reports from Steve's little adventure for it to be a coincidence. This killer had either worked for Wo Fat or been tortured by him, or knew someone who was.

Joe was fairly certain it was revenge. No one would torture so many people so precisely except to send a message. Whoever this was wanted Wo Fat. Joe almost laughed.

"Something wrong?" Officer Lang asked.

"Nope," Joe replied, flashing his ever so convincing fake smile. "Let's take a look at the crime scene and head back."

Officer Lang was young and didn't ask any more questions, which Joe was thankful for, but the kid had the makings of a terrible detective. Joe wasn't going to correct him though. Let his training officers do that.

They looked over the crime scene, but everything was pretty much as Danny and Chin had seen on Kauai, and Joe relayed the information back to Kono.

Riding the boat back to Oahu, Joe was lost in thought. He was recalling the late night getting a call from the governor of Hawaii. He recalled the terse voice telling him the son he never had was dead. He remembered hanging up the phone and resting his head in his hands as he sat on the side of the bed, tears falling for possibly the first time in his adult life.

Joe pulled himself back from those thoughts. Steve had been dead several months now. He needed to move on. Not that working for Five-0 was helping at all, and this case was just hammering him over and over again with the memories and the frustration that he didn't see it coming.

No one had known Steve as well as Joe did. He'd watched him grow up and been there for him through everything. Now he was dead, like his parents, like his sister. Joe didn't like to think that Wo Fat had won. He hadn't. As long as Joe White still breathed, there would be justice done.

That was why he joined Five-0.

**H-5-O**

Steve's arm was bleeding. He slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the Sheetrock. He let out the breath he'd been holding. Blood smeared on the faded green paint as he pulled his arm away from the wall. The knife still sat on the table.

It was involuntary anymore. He did his job, he came home, he nearly killed himself. Every day was like this. Except the ones he spent with Ryan.

Steve thought about the boy with no parents as he washed his arm and felt the cold water sting in the fresh cut. It was hardly deep enough to bleed for more than a couple of hours.

Ryan had scars too. But they weren't self-inflicted. They covered his back and chest and stomach. And Steve knew Ryan noticed his scars too. Neither of them asked about it, but Steve had a suspicion as to why Ryan's mom left and why the only comment he made about his father was, "He's dead."

Much as he wanted to know, Steve didn't ask. They respected one another's privacy; that's why their friendship worked. Were they friends? Steve wasn't sure. Maybe Ryan was as reclusive as Steve had become. Maybe he had something to hide, but knew he could trust "Sam."

Sometimes, Steve wished he were Sam Martin. All the time, he wished he were Steve McGarrett again.

Wrapping tape around his arm, Steve leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. Things couldn't go on like this or he'd be dead before he finished what he set out to do. He didn't harbor any illusions that he'd ever get his life back. But if there was one thing he would accomplish it would be to destroy the man who had destroyed him.

That was why Steve fought every day to stay alive. He had to live. Maybe he could eventually turn that into wanting to live. He didn't risk hoping for that, but it was always in the back of his mind. He wished he could remember what it felt like to love life.

He spent a lot of time thinking about Ryan because it helped. It took his mind off his own problems to think there was someone else who had suffered too and was doing okay.

Steve moved across the small kitchen/dining room/living room over to the tiny window that let in the only light in the apartment. The view was best ignored. Steve couldn't let himself miss home. Because it wasn't his home anymore. He'd given it away, just as he had everything else. It was all in an attempt to ensure that Danny would be all right. Mostly.

**H-5-O**

Danny and Chin arrived back at the Palace a short time after Joe did. All the evidence was being processed and results were coming in to Five-0. The local police were happy to have their help, which was new.

As they ascended the stairs, Danny got a call from the governor. He'd been expecting this, but he was not expecting what the governor had to say.

"Detective Williams, I need you to suspend your investigation into the serial murders," Denning said.

"I'm sorry, what?" Danny replied.

"Five-0 is not to investigate this case. I never meant for it to come across your desk. There was some miscommunication."

"Sir, you may not realize, but this case involves things we've been dealing with for a long time. We _should_ be investigating this."

"Detective, this isn't an argument. I'm telling you to drop it."

"All due respect, Sir, but maybe you don't fully understand—"

"I understand perfectly, Detective, and I do not want Five-0 investigating this case. That's all."

Denning hung up before Danny could argue further. As he shoved his phone back in his pocket, Danny was aware of Chin's eyes on him. He didn't say anything until they'd reached the third floor and found Kono and Joe talking about the case.

"Bad news," Danny said. All eyes were on him at once. "The governor is pulling us off the case."

"What? Why?" Kono said

"I don't know, but he said he never intended for us to be on it at all."

"But Danny, I..." Kono trailed off as if what she had to say was somehow a secret.

"What is it, Kono?" Chin asked, looking concerned.

Kono turned back to the computer. "I made some progress on the security video," she said, bringing it up. "I knew I couldn't be seeing what I thought, but the governor taking us off the case makes me wonder."

She started playing the video, and the others watched in silence. They'd seen it before, but the picture was much clearer now. As the murderer got closer to the camera, Kono paused it. Silence filled the room. As usual, Danny was the first to speak.

"It's some kinda sick game," he said as he analyzed the face.

"Have you run facial recognition?" Joe asked absently.

"I was about to," Kono said, pulling up the database and letting it run. Then she turned back to the others. "I don't know what this is, but... why would the governor take us off the case? I mean, am I crazy?"

Chin pointed at the screen. "It found a match," he said.

"Sam Martin," Kono read out loud. "A former Navy SEAL."

"That is not Sam Martin," Joe said decisively.

"How do you know?" Danny asked.

"Because I trained Sam Martin. I went on Missions with Sam Martin. And I watched Sam Martin die in Afghanistan."

**H-5-O**

Steve checked his watch. Ryan wouldn't be home for a few hours yet, and he had a sort of side job he needed to do before then. He took the bus because his destination was across the city, and while he was perfectly happy walking, he wanted to get back before Ryan went to bed. Just in case he had something to report.

He had to walk about a mile from the bus stop into a neighborhood that looked even worse than the one he was living in. The address was a shack. It was supposed to be a house, and maybe it was in the 1940s, but it certainly didn't look like one anymore.

Steve was almost glad that his scraggly appearance wouldn't look the least bit out of place here. Dogs barked in a dissonant rhythm to the harmony of shouting and distant sirens. There was only a screen door on the shack/house, but Steve knocked anyway.

It was some time before anyone responded, and Steve almost thought no one would. But a woman appeared in the doorway. She was so thin, Steve could have broken her in half with no effort. Her sunken eyes and emaciated form told him all he needed to know about her lifestyle. He only hoped she was lucid enough to answer one question.

"Are you Sarah Hunter?" he asked.

A look of indignation crossed her face. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name's Sam," he said. "I'm a friend of Ryan's."

That was all he needed to say to break through her wall. "Come in," she said, pushing the door open and withdrawing inside.

Steve followed slowly, taking in the squalor of the shack, the smells of urine and unwashed bodies, the layers of dust revealing that nothing on the bookshelf had been touched since it was put there.

Sarah sat down on the futon that had stuffing coming out of the middle. Steve remained standing by the front window, which was boarded shut.

"How..." she began then shook her head. "Why are you here?"

"He's looking for you," Steve replied. "He works twelve hour days sometimes, and then he searches for you. He just wants to ask you why you left."

"You don't know then?" Sarah looked Steve in the eye.

"Know what?"

"About his father. But wait. You said he works? As in a full time job?"

"Yes?" Steve wondered where this was going.

"But that can't be right... Oh, shit, what year is it?"

"2012."

Sarah looked relieved. "I thought I lost something there," she said. "But how can he work. I mean, aren't there laws about that?"

"Laws?" Steve frowned, trying to figure out what she was getting at. "Wait. How old is Ryan?"

"He'll be sixteen in September."

**H-5-O**

Ryan woke to the sound of something pounding on his door. It was probably the police again. He dragged himself out of bed; he'd only been asleep for a hour. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see who was standing there.

"Sam?" he said. "You know I work early. What's going on?"

Steve pushed his way inside, ignoring Ryan's protests. He dropped some files onto the counter and turned around to face Ryan again.

"You're fifteen," he said.

Ryan was silent for a second. "Where's this coming from?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "You first," he said.

Ryan sighed. "Are you going to call the cops on me?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm fifteen. You said it."

"Well, I'm not."

"Fine... Everything except my age that I've told you so far is true. My mom did leave when I was five. My dad did die three years ago. I've always looked old for my age, so when I was in the first foster home they sent me to, I did some favors for some... unsavory people in exchange for a fake ID."

"You were able to convince people you were 18?" Steve asked incredulously.

"I told you; I've always looked old for my age. I knew my mom had come here, so I came to find her."

"So you mean to tell me that you've been out of school, living on your own, working full time since you were 12?"

"I was almost 13."

Steve shook his head as he picked up the file he'd left on Ryan's counter. "Here," he said, handing it over.

"What's this?" Ryan asked, taking it.

"I found her. She was very clever about not leaving a trail."

"You... How?"

"I can't tell you that. She misses you. She was surprised to find out your dad was dead. Maybe that's why she's been hiding. She seemed to indicate he wasn't the nicest guy."

Ryan shook his head. "Tell me about yours, I'll tell you about mine."

He wasn't talking about father's. "You don't want to know," Steve said.

"Then why would you want to know about me?" Ryan looked him in the eye again.

"I'm not asking you to tell me," he said. "But whatever it was really messed up your mom. She left you with him, and she never got over it."

"How would you know?"

"Because I saw her. You can't miss what I saw. You don't have to tell me anything, but I guarantee that if you do, I will understand it."

Ryan's eyes looked younger suddenly. They looked scared and helpless. Not at all like the self-sufficiency they exhibited before. He took a deep breath, as if to calm some unseen turmoil.

"Before Mom left, I didn't know," he said. "He never hurt me. Dad was a Naval officer. He went out and killed people for a living, and then he came home and drank to forget about it."

Ryan paused as if that were all he planned on saying. Steve watched him carefully. He wondered if he had ever met Ryan's father. He couldn't tell him if he did. He wasn't Steve right now.

"I figured out real fast why Mom left," Ryan went on. "I used to lay awake at night and imagine she had taken me with her and we were living happily in some beach house, playing in the sun all day. I'd pretend to be asleep so Dad would leave me alone."

Ryan sat down on his secondhand couch, and Steve sat with him, mouth sealed shut as he listened to Ryan's story.

"One time he came home," Ryan said. "He got drunk, only not as drunk as usual. He came at me with a knife, and I tried to fight him off. He hit my head so hard I blacked out for hours. When I woke up... he was hanging from the ceiling fan. I always thought that he finally realized what he was doing and couldn't live with himself anymore. I guess that's what keeps me from hating him."

Ryan pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. Steve could see one of his long scars coming up his neck and disappearing under his t-shirt. He looked so young now, maybe because Steve knew how old he was, maybe because he was letting himself be.

Ryan looked up as if waking from a vivid dream. "Your turn," he said.


	10. Confession What's Inside My Head

**Chapter Nine "Confession (What's Inside My Head)"**

"_**I confess I'm always afraid, always ashamed  
>Of what's inside my head<br>And I can't breath  
>And I still feel<br>But not the way I want to  
>I'm on the edge; I don't' know how<br>I can escape this nightmare."~Red**_

Steve wished he could sink into the too-thin couch cushions when Ryan turned the question around to him. The boy had just given his life horror story. This fifteen-year-old had enough emotional maturity to share the story of his mother's abandonment and his father's abuse and suicide. Steve didn't think he was that far along, that stable.

He wasn't stable. Thinking it in so many words surprised him because no one would ever describe Steve McGarrett as fragile or broken, as unstable. But he was so unstable. He'd come close to death every day for the last several months. For almost a year, probably.

How was he supposed to explain that when it didn't make sense to him? How was he supposed to tell Ryan who he was inside when he couldn't even tell who he was outside?

"Sam?" Ryan's voice cut through the fog.

Steve looked across the couch at him. "I don't know where to start," Steve admitted.

Ryan shrugged. "Where were you born?" he asked.

Steve could see what he was doing. It worked. "Honolulu," Steve said. "I moved to California when I was 15. I was a lot younger than you then."

Ryan laughed. "Most people are a lot younger than me," he said. "What'd you do after that?"

"I went to the Naval academy," Steve said. "Then to Annapolis. I was in Naval Intelligence for five years and the SEALs for six."

"What happened after that?"

"My parents were murdered," Steve said. "Then... my sister."

"And then?"

"Then I realized that my enemies would never rest until they had killed everyone I loved."

"So... you thought it'd be better if you were dead?" Ryan was sharp. He could see it even though Steve hadn't said so.

"Yeah," Steve said. "There were other reasons. A lot of other reasons, but that's the one that..."

"Pushed you over the edge," Ryan finished.

It seemed as if he understood everything without it having to be explained. The latticework of scars, clearly visible on Steve's arms couldn't have been easily mistaken for anything other than what they were.

"But someone saved you," Ryan stated.

Steve nodded. "The one I was dying for. Doesn't matter. He thinks I'm dead anyway, and he's better for it."

"You think so?" Ryan didn't sound convinced. "I mean, I know, _I know_, that I am better off without my dad. But he was my dad. He was all I had, awful as that is. And I don't believe for a second that your friend is better without you. I don't believe that he doesn't wonder what he could have done to make you stay."

The force of Ryan's words drove Steve into silence. Everything he could have thought to say died before it formed a complete thought in his mind. He had no response, he couldn't possibly answer that.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said. "I know I don't know all the details, but I know how it felt to see my dad hanging there, and... that never leaves you, you know?"

Steve nodded. "I know," he said hoarsely. "I know, it was just... impossible."

"Yeah." Ryan nodded. "You want some coffee?"

**H-5-O**

Danny paced. Kono kept typing in information in the computer and coming up with the same results. Chin sat with his forearms resting on the table. Joe stood at the other end of the table with his arms crossed.

Periodically, Danny would stop pacing as if to say something and then resume his march. Kono muttered now and then. Chin wouldn't necessarily sigh, but he would take deep breaths in and out. Joe almost didn't blink.

An hour went by. Then two. It was past time to go home, and they weren't on the case anyway, but they stayed. That face remained on the largest of the computer monitors. The face that claimed to be the dead Sam Martin, that looked like the dead Steve McGarrett.

Finally, Joe moved. "What do we want to do about this?" he asked.

Danny stopped pacing. "We can't let it go," he said.

Chin stood up. "But the governor won't let us investigate anymore," he said.

Kono looked up from the computer. "We are not giving up on this," she said forcefully. "This can't be a coincidence."

"But what is it?" Danny said. "That's what we have to figure out. We don't want to go into this blind."

"But that's what we are," Chin said. "We don't know what's going on here."

"You'd have to be blind not to see that," Kono mumbled.

"Let's not get carried away here," Joe said. "We don't know what we're seeing."

"I know what I'm seeing," Kono argued. "It could have been doctored. It could be some kind of red herring, but it's something. _That_." Kono pointed to the picture. "We all know what that is."

"We all know we're not going to stop looking into this," Danny said. "But we won't get any help from the governor."

Chin's phone rang, and he hurriedly answered it. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned to the others. "That was Kahului PD," he said. "They just found another body."

Danny looked between the members of his task force. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was trying to formulate his plan.

"Okay," he said. "Kono, you and Joe figure out what's going on with this Sam Martin impersonator. Find out where he lives, anything you can. We'll go back to Kahului... We'll figure it out."

**H-5-O**

Steve fell asleep on Ryan's couch. When he woke up in the morning, Ryan had already left for work, but the coffeepot was on. Steve almost smiled. After some coffee and making sure Ryan's apartment was locked, Steve remembered the job he had to do this morning. He was getting so close. He had the location of one of Wo Fat's key operatives, and he would be sending a message through him today.

Stopping by his place to get his gun and change into a fresh shirt, Steve ignored the knife on the counter still caked with dried blood.

It was a sunny day, but not too warm, and the walk almost felt good. Steve wasn't sure what good was, but this was pretty damn close. Maybe it was the anticipation of the completion of his mission. That always made Steve feel a little high back in the day.

He didn't get off on hurting people, on killing them. It actually made him feel a little sick. What he did love was justice, was the sense of accomplishment. The conflicting feelings resulted in a sense of disconcert at the end. But the anticipation was good.

Steve arrived at the shipping docks where he'd traced some of Wo Fat's dealings on the island. One of his top guys was running the show from here. He was responsible for all of Wo Fat's operations on Maui.

Steve sneaked his way in. People mostly ignored him anyway, which he relished. The illusion of invisibility added to the illusion of power. He needed that to finish this. He had to believe he was capable. That didn't used to be an issue.

The man Steve was looking for was a roundish Chinese-Hawaiian. At the moment, he was supervising the unloading of what Steve assumed were crates of drugs or weapons. They said they were canned fish. Steve briefly wondered what Ryan would think of that.

Waiting against the wall of a warehouse right across from the loading dock, Steve watched his mark. The man looked to docile, too stupid to be the right had of a vicious crime boss. Steve knew better than to judge on that appearance.

Once the unloading was done, the man started walking back toward his office. He had to pass through two warehouse buildings in a narrow, alleyway. That was where Steve caught up to him.

"Mr. Sung?" he said.

The man turned around. "Yes?" he asked, looking confused. "Do I know you."

Steve didn't answer, but closed the distance between himself and Sung and pushed the man against the wall of one of the buildings. Then he pulled out his gun.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Sung said.

"Sending a message," Steve said.

"You've got the wrong guy," Sung insisted, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

But Steve saw the way his hand started reaching for a hidden gun. Steve pressed his gun into Sung's neck.

"Don't even think about it," he said, in a low voice. "I'm not going to kill you."

"You're not?" Sung was genuinely surprised.

Steve smirked. "No. I need you to take the message this time. Tell your boss if he wants it to stop he'd better come to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sung said. "Really, I don't."

"Really? Then maybe I should just kill you too, like those eight other people. Weren't some of them your guys? You wanna end up like them?"

"Okay, okay. I'll do what you want."

"Good." Steve took a step back, keeping his gun on Sung. "You have a knife?" he asked.

"What?"

"Something sharp. Come on."

"Okay, sure. In my back pocket."

Steve reached for it and then handed it to Sung. "Don't cut too deep," he said. "I need you to tell Wo Fat what I said. Tell him Sam is waiting for him."

**H-5-O**

Danny and Chin ended up staying overnight in Kahului. The KPD was very accommodating, but they're coffee tasted like motor oil. Danny would take it. They'd gone over and over the new evidence with this new body. Their suspect had left more this time, though it seemed more like a message to Wo Fat than to the police.

This body had been tortured more than the others, and instead of being shot, his wrists had been cut. The evenness of the cuts was too much for the victim to have done it to himself. And there was a written message. The penmanship was like that of a six year old, and the scrap of paper said: _I'm not done, Sam_.

Kono and Joe had been working on handwriting analysis since they'd received it late the night before. It looked like this "Sam" had intentionally made the writing bad to avoid detection. That didn't stop them from trying.

Chin came into the temporary room KPD had provided for Five-0. Danny was resting against the table, downing his coffee like he enjoyed it.

"Kono just texted me a possible address for our guy," Chin said.

"You mean the deceased Sam Martin?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. It could just be a decoy, but we should check it out."

"All right, let's get over there."

"We've got three fresh officers ready to head out with us."

"Good, hopefully someone who knows where were going."

Danny and Chin rode across town with their local backup. Danny might have been fine with just the two of them going, but that seemed too much like Steve. He was trying not to be like Steve just because he missed him. It would have been nice to remember him that way, but it would have been a projection, not real, and Danny could very well have lost himself in the act.

So, he stayed the same. Or tried to.

The apartment building was almost worse looking that the one Danny had lived in when he first moved to Hawaii. They positioned their backup around the building and went in. Sam Martin lived on the first floor right next to a vacant apartment.

Chin knocked on the door. There was no answer. He and Danny exchanged looks.

"Police, open up," Danny said.

Still nothing.

Danny nodded at Chin, and he turned his back to the door and kicked it open easily. The two of them went in, covering each other, but there was no one there. The apartment was hardly furnished except a table, chair, and bed. The living room was empty except for a surfboard. The bedroom was more interesting since the closet was full of guns and surveillance equipment.

Danny called the other officers in to process everything. Back in the kitchen, Chin found something. A bloody knife.

"You think this is what he used on the last victim?" he asked.

Danny looked more closely at it. "the blade seems to small," he said. "But get it back to the lab and find out whose blood that is."

Chin nodded and bagged the knife. "Danny look," he pointed at the table.

Underneath some newspapers was a cell phone. Danny snatched it up and looked in the contacts. There was one number, and he recognized it: Governor Sam Denning.


	11. Out From Under

**Chapter Ten "Out From Under"**

**_"So tell me where were you _  
><em> When everything fell down like thunder <em>  
><em> I begged you to pull me through <em>  
><em> I couldn't get out from under <em>**

**_ Left me for dead inside my head _**  
><strong><em> Couldn't you see that I was still breathing? <em>**  
><strong><em> Screaming, I reached for you <em>**  
><strong><em> I couldn't get out from under"~Red<em>**

Ryan got off early that day because one of the boats broke down, and they had to call a special mechanic from Hilo. This was a good thing because it meant he could go across town to see his mom that much sooner. He might have been justified in taking the day off, but he was nervous, and working all day calmed him down.

Not that he was feeling any more confident as he drove into the neighborhood Sam had described to him the night before. He'd offered to come along too, but Ryan knew he needed to do this alone. Sam had been more help than he would ever know, and not because he found Sarah Hunter. Not really.

When Ryan arrived at the right house, he saw why Sam had offered to come along. It wasn't just ugly, dilapidated; it was affecting, moving. In all his life, everything he had been through, Ryan had never been this desperate.

But there was something more that caused his heart to sink. Outside the house, there was an ambulance, and someone was coming out the front door, pulling a stretcher. Ryan turned around and walked back to his car. He'd seen her face, half covered by an oxygen mask, but he'd seen it. She was his mother, only there was less of her. Much less.

Ryan leaned against the car, debating what he should do next. He tried to remember to breathe. Maybe he should have taken Sam up on his offer to come along. Maybe it would have been nice to have someone he could fall back on, perhaps literally. He felt like falling over.

Shaking himself back into the moment, Ryan got back in the car and drove toward home. He'd tell Sam what happened. Then he would decide what to do.

Acting like an adult when you have absolutely no emotional connection to anything in your daily life was easy. This was not. Something in Ryan kind of thought he would never see his mom again. He wasn't prepared, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. At least, he wouldn't be if he had someone to admit it to. He hoped Sam was home.

**H-5-O**

Steve was momentarily frozen in place at the sight of the police cars around the apartment building. How the hell had they found him so fast? Then he remembered; it was Five-0. He got a warm feeling at the thought that they were still as effective as ever.

But this posed another problem. He needed something from inside, and now he was highly unlikely to get it. The fact that he had left this item on the table in plain sight also dumbfounded him. Since when did he get so sloppy?

Since he had a mental break? Since he forgot who he was? Since he decided he wanted to be found?

The last was not a conscious choice, and he wouldn't admit to it if asked. Not now, anyway. Maybe later, if he made it, he would tell whoever would listen that all along, he really wanted to be found.

Steve focused back on the matter at hand. He needed that knife. For several reasons, none of which involved its previous usage. But a blood-caked knife on the table of a murder suspect would certainly be sent to the crime lab for tests. He would have to intercept it, and that would lead him dangerously close to people who could not see him yet.

At the prospect of eventually seeing those he left behind, Steve's heart started pounding faster. He knew this would happen eventually, but it brought back all those dreams, and some waking projections of the future, that Danny, Chin, and Kono would all walk away from him as soon as they knew. He wouldn't blame them.

As he waited across the street for an opening, Steve saw an officer bring out a box of evidence and put it in the trunk of one of the squad cars. Steve gave himself sixty seconds to get into the trunk and get out of there. He didn't need that much time.

Of course, they would see the knife was missing. But Steve would have enough time to finish what he needed to do before they caught up to him.

For a split second he wondered how all this would affect Ryan, if they would question him, if he would find out who Steve really was that way. Steve had always wanted to tell Ryan himself. It couldn't be helped now. Maybe he would never have to know at all.

**H-5-O**

Ryan ignored the police cars in the parking lot outside as he headed to his own apartment. He closed the door and locked it behind him. Then he leaned against the door and tried again to steady his breathing. No luck.

What if she was dead already? What if he had lost his only chance to talk to her, to ask her why she left?

Ryan tipped his head back and took deep breaths through his nose. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he was shaking. He hadn't reacted so much to anything since his father killed himself. And not even so much then. Somehow it was different.

Ryan was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard movement in the bedroom. His head snapped in that direction, but he had not more time to react when three Asian men came out into the main room.

"Mr. Hunter?" the one in the middle said. His voice was smooth and he was dressed in an expensive suit and shoes, but no tie. The man nodded to his associates, and they both produced guns.

Ryan tried to think ahead, to figure out what was going on. He came up empty. "What do you want?" he said.

The two men came closer. Ryan's eyes darted between them. One of them looked from him to a chair that hadn't been pushed back into the table.

"Sit down," the leader said.

Ryan didn't have a choice but to comply, and then they surrounded him. "Who are you?" he said.

The leader shook his head. "Well be out of your way as soon as you answer a couple of questions," he said.

"Does this have anything to do with why the police are here?"

"You're very sharp for your age."

Ryan got the distinct impression that this man knew far more about him than he would have liked. "Yeah, I am," Ryan said. "I read a lot."

"Good. I like smart people."

"So what do I know that's worth waving your guns around for?"

"I"m looking for someone. His name is Sam."

Sam. That's what this was about. Ryan had a feeling that whatever Sam did was either something to do with the government or organized crime. It was seeming more like the latter.

"I have a neighbor named Sam," Ryan responded nonchalantly.

"Yes, we know. Do you know where he is?"

Ryan shook his head.

The leader man nodded to one of his sidekicks, and the next thing Ryan knew, a fist collided with his jaw, and he tasted blood. He laughed.

"Really?" Ryan said. "Is that the best you can do?"

The leader man's eyes got wider, but otherwise his expression did not change. He resembled a snake. "You are the only person he trusts," he said. "You know where he would go."

Ryan shook his head again. "Sam doesn't tell me about his life," he said. Then he seemed to be thinking. "But even if I did know where he was, I wouldn't tell you."

The fist again. Much harder. Ryan's vision swam as the pain blistered all over the side of his face. He coughed once and laughed again.

"I got much worse from my old man when I was six," he said.

The punching man seemed to be preparing for another strike when muffled voices sounded in the hallway. Someone had heard and come to investigate. The three men disappeared into the bedroom again, probably having come in through the window as a short, blonde man kicked in the flimsy door.

**H-5-O**

Lieutenant Catherine Rollins walked up the steps, appearing purposeful, but feeling nothing but. This was probably due to the fact that she had no good reason for being here. Orders had brought her back to the island she'd left over six months ago.

She remembered the last day she was here with perfect clarity. He'd tried to laugh about her leaving, but she could tell he didn't want her to go. He'd suggested meeting halfway. That was the last thing he ever said to her.

Over the months, she had tried to see the irony, had tried to laugh about it. That couldn't have really been the end, right? But the more she thought about it, the more it hurt. It never went away, but only magnified over time.

Maybe it was a mistake to be here, or maybe it was the only thing that would heal her.

Kono and Joe were the only ones in the office when she came in. They were preoccupied with something on the smart board and didn't notice her. And as Catherine came further into the room, she saw what they were doing, the image projected onto the computer monitors, the time stamp just a few weeks ago.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked, her voice breathy and hollow as she stared at the picture of the man she couldn't stop loving.

**H-5-O**

"You sure you're all right?" Danny asked the boy for the seventh time. He and Chin had heard the sounds of Wo Fat and his men questioning Ryan Hunter and come to see what was going on.

"I'm fine," Ryan replied, dabbing at his mouth with a wet paper towel. "So, Sam's in deep, huh?"

Danny weighed his answer carefully. Obviously, the kid didn't know what his neighbor was. "Yeah," he finally said. "It looks that way. You two are friends?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "He's been here since November. What kind of trouble is he in?"

Danny saw that Ryan was genuinely concerned with this Sam, whoever he was. He hated to be the one to tell him. "He may have murdered eight people," he said.

"What?" Ryan actually laughed. "You're kidding. You're not? No way. I mean, yeah he's mysterious, and he's got all these scars, but he couldn't have murdered people."

"Scars?" Danny asked. "What kind of scars?"

"I shouldn't have said anything. That was in confidence."

"Listen, Mr. Hunter, we need to find this guy. We need to stop him from getting himself killed."

"It's Ryan. And you sound like you care. Do you know him?"

Danny was taken back by the question. "What? No... I mean, I don't think so."

Ryan nodded. "Okay."

"Do you know where he might be?" Chin interrupted. "Those guys in here were trying to find him. If we can find him first, we can stop anything bad from happening."

Ryan thought about that for a moment. It couldn't hurt to tell the police where he thought Sam might be. He hoped. "There's this beach," he said. "Where we go surfing on Sundays. It's kind of out of the way."

Chin pulled up a map on his phone. "Can you show us?" he said.

Ryan took the phone, unsure of what to do with it. He'd spent the last five years in a technologically sparse environment. He didn't even have a TV. His phone was a landline.

"Um..." He looked at the map. "It's over here," he said. "Can you zoom in?"

Chin reached over and magnified the desired area. "That good?"

"Oh, yeah, right here." Ryan pointed. "I mean, I don't know if he's there, but it's where I would look."

"Okay, thanks," Danny said. "There's an officer outside who can take you to the hospital and then get a complete statement."

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Ryan argued. "This is..." He gestured at his face. "Nothing."

"Yeah, I didn't say it was optional. You might have a concussion, and we like our witnesses to be coherent."

"And you want to keep an eye on me. Okay." Ryan headed for the door. Then he stopped. "Just... don't hurt him, please?"

Danny shook his head. "I don't plan on it."

**H-5-O**

Steve stood just above the high tide line, staring out at the deceptively calm sea. He'd gotten a haircut. Not out of any particular desire to look decent, but because the longer hair was annoying him, and he was finally able to look more like himself. This was the last day he would hide.

He knew he had a while to wait. It would take Wo Fat some time to decipher the complex instructions he had given in his series of kills. Steve didn't normally like such cryptic methods, but he enjoyed keeping his enemy in the dark. He enjoyed the taste of his fear.

The smell of the ocean took Steve somewhere else though. It took him back to the night this all started. It wasn't the same knife he was twisting in his hands. This one was smaller, small enough to hide in his sleeve.

In his mind, Steve was an island away, lying on the beach, sleeping. Yes, sleeping. He was at complete peace, nothing to worry about, no one hurt. He didn't really think this would end that way. Even if he ever did go back there, it wouldn't all be peace.

And it wasn't his beach anymore. It belonged to Grace and Danny. That wouldn't change. They owned everything that had once been his; he wanted them to. He wouldn't want anyone else in that house, on that beach. Danny was the only one who got him, if even he did.

That brought Steve back to his previous thoughts about how this reunion would go. He wasn't expecting hugs all around. He wasn't expecting them to say how good it was to see him. Because it wouldn't be good. It would be bad. Steve had lied to them all; he'd betrayed them. He'd done the same to himself.

And a nice haircut didn't make Steve himself again. He still hardly recognized who he saw when he looked inside. How were they to see anything different? Steve wondered with certain amusement what Lori and her expert profiling skills would think. At least he could be amused about that. Because he didn't really care what she thought. He did care, though, what Chin and Kono and especially Danny thought.

Steve had made up his mind. If one person, if Danny, could forgive him, then it was worth it to go back and try to rebuild what he could of his life. Because if he had only Danny, Steve knew he had what he'd sacrificed everything for. He didn't get his hopes up though.

Steve heard footsteps in the sand. His company had arrived. This was it. He slid the knife into his sleeve. He'd been wearing long sleeves for so long, he almost forgot what it was like not to.

"Sam?" came the familiar, silky voice. "I'm here. What do you want?"

Who was the one begging now? Steve couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he turned to Wo Fat and revealed himself.


	12. Watch You Crawl

**The moment you've all been waiting for... sort of.  
><strong>

**Chapter Eleven "Watch You Crawl"**

"_**As you wait for my demise  
>I'm just getting stronger<br>Learning who you really are  
>And nothing can save you<br>I will fight until the end  
>Get ready to collide<br>And I will watch you fall again  
>I'll bury you alive<br>You try to bring me to my knees  
>Trying to take it all<br>Now I will stand and watch you crawl"~Red**_

_September, 2011_

_Steve went home late that night. Five-0 had just closed a difficult case, and everyone was tired. And work had been harder lately since the governor's new babysitter had come aboard. It would take a lot of adjusting. Actually, most of his life took a lot of adjusting, but he was working on it._

_As he pulled into his driveway, Steve discovered a message on his phone that had been there several hours. He'd just been too busy to notice. He listened to it as he walked toward the house:_

"_Commander McGarrett, this is Detective Johnson of LAPD. I have some news concerning your sister Mary Ann, you can call me back at..."_

_Steve didn't bother listening to the numbers, but ended the message and dialed his last missed call. The same voice answered. After some questions he couldn't remember afterward, Johnson broke the news._

"_I'm afraid your sister was murdered this morning. I'm so sorry."_

_Steve didn't hear anything after that. Somehow he ended up sitting in the doorway, and his phone skittered across the floor from his open hand. That was where Danny found him in the morning._

_The night had been cold, but Steve insisted that he was fine when Danny finally got his attention._

"_Oh yeah, because normal people sleep in their doorways," Danny said. "I think your paranoia has reached a new height."_

"_I wasn't sleeping," Steve said. He was being defensive, but Danny was a little too thrown off to ask the right questions._

_By this time, they were walking through the house to the kitchen. Steve started some coffee and opened the refrigerator._

"_Have you eaten?" Steve asked._

"_Yeah," Danny replied. "Hey, what's going on with you?"_

"_Nothing," Steve said. "I have to go to L.A. for a few days."_

"_Why? Something wrong with Mary?"_

_That's when Steve couldn't keep it up anymore. He dropped the carton of eggs he was holding, and every one of them broke all over the floor. Danny was at his side in an instant, holding his arm to keep him from falling._

_As he reached out to steady himself, Steve's hand knocked over the knife block on the counter, and a small paring knife bounced off his arm, leaving a single, straight cut. He cursed at nothing in particular, and Danny pulled him toward a chair in the dining room._

"_What's going on, Steve?" he said, looking him in the eye._

_Steve put his hand over the cut that was already dripping blood. His eyes wouldn't focus, he couldn't seem to breathe._

_Then he snapped back out of it. He pulled away from Danny and went back to clean up the mess in the kitchen._

_Fearing another similar episode, Danny waited until Steve was finished with all that, had a cup of coffee, and sat down again. He looked very much like he hadn't slept at all, and Danny was trying to piece together what was going on._

"_She's dead," Steve finally said. "My sister's dead."_

_Danny wanted to go with him, but Steve wouldn't let him. It started out as a request, but when Danny pressed, it turned into, "I don't want you there."_

_Danny wasn't sure what that meant, but he let Steve have his way. He'd talk to him about it when he got back._

_Only he didn't. When he came home, Steve was business as usual and avoided all attempts at conversation about his sister. Of course Lori tried to drag it out of him which only made him withdraw further from her._

_Things had been changing so gradually that Steve didn't really notice that this was the real turning point. He didn't notice when that cut on his arm seemed to make more sense than anything else. He didn't notice when Danny stopped asking him to go out after work. He didn't notice when Lori flirted with him because he just didn't care._

_But he was careful. He never let them see what was really going on. He pushed them away slowly enough that they wouldn't be able to resist. He made them safe._

_He made it that much harder to go back to them._

**H-5-O**

As he turned, Steve watched his enemy's face. The eerie calm he normally possessed still coated most of his expression, but there was something in his eyes, some deep recognition, not just of Steve's face, but of what he had done to him.

"You are Sam," Wo Fat said.

Steve resisted a smirk. "I am," he said. "I hope you appreciate all the effort I went through for you."

Wo Fat nodded once. "I'm impressed," he said. "I never would have though you had it in you to betray everyone like that."

Steve knew what he was doing. Using his guilt as a weapon. He wouldn't allow it. "Glad to have your approval," he said drily.

"So what now? You wanted to see my reaction?"

"Not exactly," Steve said, taking a step closer.

The two men flanking his opponent tensed and reached for their weapons, but Wo Fat waved them off. Steve wasn't armed. Or didn't look like it.

"Then what?"

Another step. "I wanted you to see your work." Steve pulled back his left sleeve and held his arm out. The biggest scar stood out like an internal bracelet. The others traced up and down his arm with no pattern.

"Not my best," Wo Fat replied.

"No," Steve said. Another step. "It was sloppy. Everything about me made you sloppy. You had to kill more people, destroy more evidence. That must have been frustrating."

"You were almost a worthy opponent," Wo Fat said. "Far more so than your father ever was."

"Hey, what'd you have against him?" Steve asked, taking the final step that put his enemy within arms reach.

Wo Fat shook his head. "Not him," he said. "What he created."

"Shelburne?" Steve asked, tilting his head to the side.

There was no reply. There never would be.

"It doesn't matter," Steve went on. "I really don't care anymore because I've won."

Steve had been holding his hands in front of him as if distracted, but really he needed his right arm to be close enough to a vital organ. He slipped the knife from his sleeve into his hand, and before Wo Fat knew what was happening, Steve had stabbed it into his stomach.

Steve hadn't really planned on escaping the two henchmen, but at that moment, there was shouting behind him, and the two dropped their weapons.

Ignoring them for the moment, Steve lowered his mortally wounded prey to the ground. There were no last words, no biting remarks to the nearly dead. Steve had said all he needed to.

The voices became clear behind him. "Five-0! Drop your weapon!"

It was Danny. Steve knew he was coming, but he hadn't expected him to find him so fast. The moment he had been dreading and hoping for was upon him, and all he could do was drop the knife in the sand, it's blade coated with his dried blood mixed with his enemy's, and put his hands on his head.

He'd been in this position before, kneeling on the ground, only that time, he was actually innocent. Wo Fat stared up at him with unblinking eyes. Only then did Steve realize his mistake. He should have stabbed for the heart and ended it immediately. But still barely lucid, Wo Fat grabbed the knife that had landed just by his hand and shoved it upwards. Steve only had time to lessen the damage by leaning backward away from it before the blade pierced his skin, and warm blood started pouring out.

For a moment, Wo Fat's hand stayed wrapped around the handle of the knife as Steve knelt beside him, unmoving. Then with his last burst of strength, Wo Fat twisted the knife in Steve's abdomen. Steve fell backward into the sand as Wo Fat breathed his last and Danny reached his side.

"Steve!" the voice cut through the haze of pain and pounded into Steve's head like a memory he could never forget.

Danny's hands closed around the knife. He didn't pull it out; he knew better. He pressed down as much as he could without hurting himself.

"Danny?" Steve choked out the name. He hadn't said it in so long. "I..."

"Don't," Danny interrupted. "Don't try to talk. Just hang on, okay? You'll be fine."

"Danny..."

"You hear me Steve? You'll be fine."

"Danny, I... don't wanna die."

And for a moment, Danny couldn't say a word. His eyes fixed on Steve's and he squeezed tighter around the knife, letting it cut into the soft inside of his hands.

"I know," he finally said. "I know, and you're not gonna die. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna come home, and everything's gonna be fine."

Steve listened to the steady sound of Danny's voice as he tried to block out the chaos around him. He heard sirens in the distance, and someone who sounded like Chin barking orders. He focused his attention on Danny's face, his voice, the fact that he was once again trying to save Steve.

"Danny... I'm sorry."


	13. Breathe Into Me

**Thanks to everyone who continues to read this story. I appreciate every one of your comments. This is the moment you've all been waiting for.  
><strong>

**Chapter Twelve "Breathe Into Me"**

"_**And this is how it hurts when I pretend I don't feel any pain  
>And this is how I disappear when I throw myself away<br>Breathe your life into me  
>I can feel you<br>I'm falling, falling faster  
>Breathe your life into me<br>I still need you  
>I'm falling, falling<br>Breathe into me"~Red**_

Danny suspended all coherent thought when he saw the knife flash in Wo Fat's hand. If he'd had a clear shot, he would have taken it, but that was never an option. His feet sunk into the sand, but he ran as fast as he could. By that time, Wo Fat was dead, officers were arresting his sidekicks, and Steve was on the ground bleeding.

Danny couldn't help flashing back to that night on the beach so many months ago. He couldn't help dreading the fact that he would have to go through all that pain over again. But it wouldn't be the same. He told Steve to hang on. Steve said he didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die! Which meant he wanted to live; he wanted to come home.

Danny didn't really feel the knife cut into his hands. He didn't care. It would heal. Right now he just had to make sure Steve was okay. It wasn't that long before the paramedics showed up. By then, Chin was next to Danny, one hand clamped down on his shoulder.

They took Steve away in the ambulance. Danny tried to think, tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next, but he still had a hard time remembering to breathe. It was Chin who broke the silence.

"We should get to the hospital," he said. His normal calm was preempted by a shaky tone, a fear that Danny had never seen before, even when he had a bomb strapped around his neck.

"Yeah, okay," Danny said, wiping his hands on his pants. He didn't look back to see the reason for all this. That part of their lives was over. That was the only reason he could still breathe without thinking.

It didn't take as long as Danny thought it would to get to the hospital. Steve was already being taken care of, and someone suggested Danny get his hands looked at. Chin promised to man the waiting room and call Joe and Kono.

Danny finally felt the sting of his wound when a nurse cleaned out the cuts between his thumbs and forefingers. She said something about infections and lightheadedness. So that's what he was feeling now. It made sense. More sense than anything that was going on right now.

It didn't take very long to get his hands taped up, and soon Danny was back out in the waiting room where Chin was just getting off the phone. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Did you tell them?" Danny asked.

Chin shook his head. "I just said to get over here," he said. "I thought it'd be better if... Danny, Catherine's there."

Everything was becoming very real very quickly. They would now have to tell people that Steve was still alive. It was hard enough seeing him there on the ground with a knife in his stomach. Danny wasn't sure how it ranked in comparison to seeing him bleeding out last fall. That would depend on the outcome of today.

Neither of the two men sat down in the square hospital chairs, but they didn't pace around or fidget. They just stood there, bodies angled away from each other, but still facing. They didn't talk any more. There were no words to give voice to the turmoil inside them.

**H-5-O**

Ryan wasn't hurt badly, but he let the cops take him to the hospital. He had a feeling his whole world was about to crumble anyway. Not that he wanted to let them take him back into the system. That was the last thing he wanted. He'd run away again anyway. He just needed time to regroup.

And then there was his mom. He could try to find her at the hospital, not that she would be in any position to help him out, but it was looking like Sam wouldn't be either.

As he was thinking of the possibilities of his friend being a serial killer, Ryan approached the ER receptionist. He checked himself out and handed the paperwork back to her.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could help me find someone," he said, giving her his best smile.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked.

"My mom. I think she was brought in here earlier today. Her name is Sarah Hunter."

"Well..." The receptionist typed some things into her computer. "I'm not seeing her, but I can keep looking while you talk to the police."

"Thanks," Ryan said. "I really appreciate it." He smiled at her again. He didn't know if it was working or if she was just a nice person. She was way too old for him anyway, though she probably didn't think she was.

Ryan then turned to the detectives in the waiting area. They looked lost, like little kids in a big city. That didn't make sense.

"Did you find Sam?" he asked when he reached them.

The shorter one whose name Ryan had forgotten nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"What happened?" Ryan asked, getting impatient.

"He's uh... in surgery I guess," the man said.

"You guess? What's going on here?"

The other man, the older one put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why don't you sit down?" he said. "I'm sure Sam will be fine."

He didn't sound quite like he believed it, but his calm attitude made Ryan cooperate anyway. Even in his uncertainty, the Hawaiian exuded comfort and safety. Ryan didn't have time to think more about it because a group of people came rushing into the waiting room toward them. There were two women, an older man, and a guy in a suit followed by body guards.

"Detective Williams, I thought I told you that you were off this case," the suited man said.

"All due respect sir, I don't give a damn," Williams said. There was a wave of tension that washed over everyone at the surprise of his words. "I mean, do you have no shame?" he went on. "Sending him here the way he was? What sane person thinks that's a good idea?"

"Danny?" the Hawaiian woman said. "Is it really him? He's alive?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah." He clenched his fists and turned away from the suited man as if to avoid saying any more. Or perhaps becoming violent. Ryan could see that happening, though he wasn't sure why.

The other woman looked like she was going to cry, and the older man stood closer to her for support. Ryan was at a loss as to who all these people were, but he had a sinking suspicion that he had just met the people Sam had left behind.

**H-5-O**

Steve didn't try to move as the anesthetic wore off. He was working on being calm. It helped. He'd succeeded in his mission because he'd managed to keep his head.

His mission. His idiotic mission. He hated himself for it. He couldn't take it back now, but if he could knowing what it did to him he would. Even if it meant leaving Wo Fat alive, even if it meant always wondering when he would strike next. He had thought it would be worth it, but it wasn't. He'd given away all he was trying to save. In the off chance that everyone did forgive him, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't make it better.

Coming back to reality, Steve could feel the dull throbbing in his lower abdomen. It wasn't much different from the time Victor Hesse stabbed him, only this time, Wo Fat was actually trying to kill him. It wasn't penance enough. Steve knew that.

The white lights and the hospital sounds brought Steve back to the world of consciousness. He felt stiff and thirsty and tired. He briefly remembered Danny's words on the beach. He remembered Danny's words from months ago: _"Wake up, Steve! You are not going to die! I won't let you!"_

Steve never realized the truth in those words, but it was Danny who kept him alive that night, and it was Danny who kept him alive all the months he was away. It was Danny who came to his rescue on the beach. It all came back to him eventually. Somehow, it would have to be Danny who saved him again if anyone could.

The door opened and closed softly. Steve turned his head slowly to see who it was. The jerky movements, the crisp blue dress shirt. He was wearing a tie again.

He laughed. Sort of. Like the laugh of someone who is really happy and really sad at the same time. "What are you smiling at?" he managed to say.

Steve couldn't reply. He couldn't force words into his throat and out of his mouth.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," Danny said. He hadn't changed. His voice still bore the same tone, the same inflection. It wasn't accusing or demanding as Steve had often imagined it to be. It was Danny. It made sense when nothing else did.

"The tie looks good," Steve finally said.

"Really? That's what you wanna say to me right now?" But Danny was laughing as he said it. The familiarity, the closeness was there again. Things weren't great, but they might be okay.

"Danny," Steve began, more serious this time.

"No, you know what? We'll have plenty of time to talk about this when we get home, okay? The doctor said you could probably leave in the morning."

"Danny," Steve interrupted. "I..."

"What? You're going to tell me you're sorry now? Well, I hate to rain on your parade, but we've already forgiven you."

Steve couldn't say anything after that. He could hardly keep looking Danny in the eye when he heard those words.

Danny pulled up a chair and sat close to Steve's bed. "Hey," he said softly, and he rested his hand over Steve's. "I know this isn't all gonna go away like that, but we'll get there, okay? And we're all gonna be there for you through everything. And that's just a lot of words, I know, but hey, that's what I'm good at, right?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah," he said. "That's what you're good at."

**H-5-O**

Danny was still in the room with Steve, and Catherine was secretly hoping he would stay there a while. She'd said the others could see him first. She acted like she was being considerate. But really, she was terrified of being unable to say the things she needed to say. All these thoughts had haunted her over the last several months, and now she had a chance to get them all out, to make them real when everything up until now had seemed like a fading dream that just wouldn't let go.

She wanted to talk to Steve. She always had. But she never thought she would actually get the chance to. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. She didn't know if he would even want to see her.

That had come on gradually after she left in the fall. Steve had said they should meet, but he never initiated conversation after that. She would call him now and then, and he was always busy with something, always running. She had thought then, that maybe it was over. Maybe he didn't want to do the long distance thing. She would have understood that.

And then there was the news that he was dead. Catherine had been dreading a breakup all this time, but it never came. She wasn't able to make it to his funeral, though if she had, she was sure she wouldn't have been able to keep it together. But every waking moment, she wished she had gotten the chance to talk to him one last time. To ask if things were really over, to have some closure.

Maybe she shouldn't have come. It might have been better if he didn't have to deal with her now, considering everything else she was sure he would go through in the coming weeks. But she had to know. She wouldn't stay if he didn't want her to; she just had to know.

**H-5-O**

Ryan felt completely out of place with these people. He didn't know any of them, and they were all so much older than him. With Sam it didn't seem to matter, but now he felt like a little kid who sneaked in somewhere only grown-ups were allowed.

The Hawaiian man, Chin, sat next to him while the others talked or sat quietly. He didn't say anything for a while, either processing things himself or thinking of what to say. But Ryan did have some questions.

"You thought he was dead?" he asked.

Chin looked surprised. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Did you know him well?"

Ryan shrugged. "I didn't know his friends were cops. I didn't know he was on some secret mission to kill some guy... I know he likes to surf. I know he thought everyone was better off without him. I know his family died, and he was afraid this guy would kill the rest of you."

Chin nodded. "You know the important stuff," he said.

Ryan shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "But what about everything else? The... assassinations."

"I don't have an answer for that," Chin said. "I like to think he knew what he was doing. He always did before."

"I hope so." Ryan leaned back in the chair, trying in vain to get comfortable. A moment passed and the ER receptionist approached them.

"Mr. Hunter?" she said. She was holding a file in her hand.

"Yeah?" Ryan sat up.

"I did some digging, and it turns out that your mother was here," she said. "But I'm afraid the paramedics got to her too late. She died in the ambulance on the way here. I'm so sorry."

She looked sorry, sympathetic. Like just the sort of person who shouldn't work in a hospital because she was too tenderhearted.

Ryan only nodded. "Thanks..." He read her name tag. "Becky."

The fact that his entire world was falling apart didn't quite register with Ryan because it had done so many times before. Everything had been leading up to this from his mother's abandonment, to his father's abuse and suicide, to meeting Sam. Ryan, perhaps foolishly, thought that Sam would be different. That he wouldn't evaporate like everyone else.

Though he'd never expressed it to anyone, Ryan would have given up all his freedom and independence for one thing. He just wanted one person to stay. Just one.

When he felt the strong hand on his shoulder, Ryan was confused. He turned his head to see Chin watching him, sad eyes and a firm grip. It wasn't exactly the ideal moment to start crying like a child, but at least there was someone there to hold onto if only for the moment.


	14. Gave It All Away

**Sorry I didn't get this done last week. School hates me. I also haven't finished my chapter for Last Second Chance either... grrr.  
><strong>

**Chapter Thirteen "Gave It All Away"**  
>"<em><strong>You had the chance to never walk alone<br>But you gave it all away  
>When I needed you to stay<br>Just open up your arms; I need you here  
>I can do this on my own<br>I've got nothing left to show  
>Open up your arms; I need you here!<strong>**"~Red**_

Steve fell asleep again under Danny's watch. After everything he'd been through, he could finally rest. He could feel safe again. Danny stayed with him, though the others wanted to see him as well. Maybe he was being selfish, or maybe he knew that it would be too much for Steve to see everyone at once.

Thankfully, Steve's doctor agreed because Kono was threatening to break down the door if Danny didn't give her a turn. She was the only one who voiced her desire to see Steve, though everyone was clearly anxious to. The governor left after an hour or so when it became clear that he would have to wait some time before being able to speak to Steve.

Danny wondered what Denning would say to Steve. Good Job? Nice work? Welcome back? It all sounded so wrong in his head, and he couldn't imagine how it would sound coming out of someone's mouth.

The whole situation was wrong, and Danny knew it would be hell getting everything right again, but he was determined that they would. He wasn't going to sit by and let Steve go again. He had no idea where they would even begin, but getting him home was the first order of business.

Danny realized that he had been on this island since the previous afternoon, and hadn't slept more than a couple of hours at the police station. Suddenly the wooden chair became very comfortable and the _beep, beep, beep_ of the heart monitor became like the ticking clock in Steve's living room as it soothed him to sleep.

He woke several hours later to a stiff neck and the sound of heavy breathing. He opened his eyes in time to see Steve jolt awake and look around the room like a cornered animal. His hands clutched the rails of the bed, and he looked like he was about to try to get up and run.

Danny was out of his chair the second he saw all this and put his hands on Steve's arm. He felt the long bumps under his fingers, the fresh scars.

"Steve, it's okay," Danny said, trying to sound reassuring. "You're safe. It's okay."

Steve seemed to calm down at the sound of Danny's voice, but he was not relaxed. He sunk back against the pillows, but his eyes remained wide and unblinking, as if he were confused or lost. Maybe he was.

"You're okay. You're safe," Danny went on. He didn't know if he was doing any good, but he couldn't just stand there and wait for Steve to come back to Earth.

"Danny?" Steve's voice was airy and distant like he wasn't quite sure where he was.

"Yeah, I'm here," Danny said. "You can go back to sleep."

The look on Steve's face said that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. Danny wondered if the pain medication were giving him strange dreams, or if that had nothing to do with it.

"I'll go find a doctor, okay?" Danny said.

But Steve turned his hand over and grabbed Danny's arm. "Just stay here," he said, very quietly.

Danny nodded, and pulled his chair closer to the bed with his free hand. "Okay," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

As they spoke, Steve calmed somewhat, but Danny didn't think he would be going back to sleep any time soon. The heart monitor was beeping faster than before, and Steve remained alert as if they might be under attack at any moment.

"It's over," Danny said as if he needed to. He just needed to fill the silence, and it was the best thing he could think to say.

Steve only nodded, and his gaze wandered around the room, up the pale walls to the ceiling. His eyes were searching the banal hospital room, for what, Danny wasn't sure. His silence was more of a concern than the manner of his awakening. Silence was what got them here.

Danny shook his head and muttered, "Damn it, Steve, say something."

"Say what?" Steve asked, looking back at Danny again. In his eyes there was no sarcasm, only an honest inquiry as to what the hell there was to say.

"I don't know." Danny stood up. "Anything." He started pacing. "Hell, tell me how much you hate this place and can't wait to leave because at least..." Still pacing around the room Danny trailed off. Steve followed his movements, but made no reply. Danny stopped by the window and turned to face Steve. "I've been shouting at you for the last five months, and you never said a damn thing. Now you're here, and you're still not saying anything."

"What do you want me to say?" Steve half sat up, voice straining. "Huh? I'm sorry? I tried before, and you didn't want to hear it."

Danny shook his head. "No, I don't want you to say you're sorry. I just..."

"I didn't mean it like that," Steve said. "I know what you're trying to do."

"And what's that?"

"You want me to talk about things as if that would make it all better. It won't."

"No." Danny shook his head again. "It's more selfish than that. I want you to talk about anything because the silence is killing me."

Steve had no response for that, though Danny could seen him trying to think of something to say. He knew it wouldn't make anything right again, but it would be a start to making him feel like Steve really was there. Like he hadn't died long before that night on the beach where Danny found him soaked in his own blood.

**H-5-O**

Ryan slept curled up in one of the waiting room chairs. He wasn't exactly small, but he could sleep anywhere. He didn't think that the others were watching him or that people might start to ask questions now that they knew his mom was dead. She was the one he was looking for all this time, and now that she was gone, there wasn't much reason to stay. It was easy enough to run from a foster home if he needed to again. It didn't look like Sam would be much help now anyway.

At some point during the night, Ryan woke feeling cramped and hungry. The rest of the group were all sprawled in chairs, some sleeping, others staring into the darkened room, not seeing anything. The older man was still awake, and so was the Hawaiian girl. Chin and the dark-haired girl who hadn't spoken a word were both asleep.

Ryan got up and crossed the room to the doors leading to the main hallway. Maybe he could find a vending machine somewhere.

"Bring us some coffee, will you?" the older man asked. He sounded tired, not like he could sleep, but like he was exhausted with seeing and thinking.

"Sure," Ryan said.

The Hawaiian girl stood up. "I'll come with you," she said.

Standing next to him, Ryan could see that she was tall, though not quite as tall as him. She walked ahead of him through the doors. She moved like she owned the place, but her eyes betrayed a fear that everyone in that waiting room could relate to in some way or another.

"How long have you known him?" Ryan asked, walking alongside the girl.

She turned her head slightly. "Couple years," she said. "Feels like a lot longer."

"Yeah? He's like that, isn't he?"

"How'd you two become friends?"

"Neighbors. I made him cookies."

"Yeah, Steve likes good cookies."

"Wait, Steve? His name is Steve?"

"Yeah... Oh, I guess you didn't know, did you? What did he call himself, Sam?"

"Yeah." Ryan shook his head, trying to process that he probably knew absolutely nothing about this person he'd supposedly made friends with for the past five months. "So what do you call yourself?"

"Kono," the girl said. "Chin is my cousin."

"He's something else."

"What's that mean?"

"He's so calm. Sort of."

"Yeah. It gets on people's nerves sometimes."

"So what about the other two? The old guy and the quiet one."

"Steve's former commander, Joe White, and his, uh, well, I think she was his girlfriend. Catherine."

"You think?"

"He was vague on that. I think he liked to keep his two lives separate."

"Makes sense. I think we all do that a little bit." Ryan held open the door of the cafeteria for Kono to enter. It was empty this late at night except for a few workers cleaning up. They looked up when the two young people entered, perhaps with some exasperation, but there was also understanding there.

"Hungry?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Yeah," Ryan replied. "And we've got some people wanting coffee."

"I can do that, Honey," she said with a soft smile.

**H-5-O**

Steve wracked his brain to think of something to say to Danny's confession. He had considered how his actions would affect his partner, but couldn't have been prepared for this. He should have known that as much as he loved his chosen family, they loved him just as much, especially Danny. And losing him would affect them just as much as losing himself had.

As he watched his best friend, his brother, Steve was struck by the gravity of what he'd done. He knew a mere apology would do nothing. Danny had said he'd forgiven Steve, but that was only the beginning.

Danny had asked him to speak, but for the life of him, Steve could think of nothing to say. He knew there was so much he could say, but where to begin was the question. Danny began pacing again, and it put Steve back on alert. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of now, but it didn't go away just like that.

"I don't know where to start," Steve admitted.

Danny stopped pacing. He stood before the window, looking down at Steve. His eyes looked the same as the time Steve had rolled over on the edge of the cliff to see him up there staring down waiting for Steve to respond. He remembered what he'd said then: "I'm good." With a broken arm and cuts and bruises everywhere, he was good. He couldn't say that now, and it was a struggle he had never quite overcome to admit that he wasn't all right.

"I had a lot of questions for you," Danny said. "I'd walk up and down the beach for hours some nights, and I guess I was trying to figure things out for myself. None of it seems to matter right now."

"What questions?" Steve asked.

"I don't know." Danny shook his head and rubbed his face absently. "I was just trying to understand. Trying to force it to make sense so I could live with it."

"I don't want you to ever understand what I was thinking because the only way it makes sense is to be there. No one should ever be there."

"Would you do it again?"

"What?"

"I mean, you succeeded. Knowing that, would you do it again?"

That answer was simpler that Steve thought it would be. "No," he said.


	15. Pieces

**Thanks to my beta readers, AZGirl and Riter's Fury, for being awesome! And thanks to all you readers who believe in this story even though it's not exactly conventional.  
><strong>

**Chapter Fourteen "Pieces"**

"_**I'm here again  
>A thousand miles away from you<br>A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am  
>I tried so hard<br>Thought I could do this on my own  
>I've lost so much along the way<br>Then I see your face  
>I know I'm finally yours<br>I find everything I thought I lost before  
>You call my name<br>I come to you in pieces  
>So you can make me whole"~Red<strong>_

Catherine woke to a stiffness that reached to her toes. The waiting room was a little lighter, which made her suddenly nervous. They'd be leaving soon. She would see Steve. She still had no idea what she would say to him, or rather, how she would say what she knew she needed to.

Stretching her limbs, she let her feet touch the floor, and the shiver of uncurling from a deep sleep swept over her. She stood up and walked around the room, loosening up, trying to return to alertness.

She didn't pay attention to the others in the room. If she had, she would have seen Joe sitting alone in one corner with an empty coffee cup in his hand. She would have seen Chin and Kono talking with the boy whose name she didn't know. She didn't think to wonder who he was.

But Catherine did notice Danny coming down the hallway, looking rumpled and exhausted. He surveyed the room, and seeing that Catherine was the closest, said the first and last thing she wanted to hear.

"You wanna talk to him?" he said. "He's awake."

Catherine's mouth went dry. She couldn't say anything. Danny took that as affirmation and led her back down the hallway to Steve's room. He left her there to face him alone. Exhaling all the air in her lungs, Catherine put her hand on the doorknob and went inside.

Steve was more than awake. He was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was facing away from Catherine, though his head was angled so that she could see part of his face. He looked older by more than the six months or so since she'd seen him. The gray hair at his temples was thicker than before, and the dark circles under his eyes obscured the once vibrant blue of his irises.

Then he turned his head and saw her. The look in his eyes was something between shock and mortification. It made Catherine actually consider turning around and leaving. But it was too late to turn back. She had to get everything out now.

"Cath?" His voice was low and raspy. She heard the surprise, the pain.

"Steve," she said. _Off to a great start,_ she thought. "I..." Everything she wanted to say evacuated her mind. The only thing she could think to do was rush to his side and hug him and tell him everything would be fine.

Steve stood up and walked toward her. Catherine's knees felt weak. Even after all this time and all the pain he had caused, he still had that effect on her. He always would.

Steve was halfway across the room when Catherine came back to reality. He still had that look in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. It was somewhere between guilt and fear. She wanted to make him to stop feeling that way. She didn't know if she could.

He stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for her to say something, waiting for permission to breathe again. She tried to make the words come out that would calm this tension, but all she could say was,

"I love you."

**H-5-O**

Danny noticed Joe sitting alone and went over to sit beside him. The older man had been very quiet since they arrived at the hospital. It was becoming a little eerie.

"How's he doing?" Joe asked.

Danny sighed. "He's..." No words came. He couldn't think of a way to describe Steve's state at the moment.

"What did he say?"

Danny laughed, the humorless sound of someone who was done crying. "He said even though he succeeded, he wouldn't do it again."

Joe nodded. "That's big," he said. Then he turned his head and looked Danny in the eye. "He's a lot like his father and me, and we tend to justify our actions to the bitter end."

Danny nodded. "I got that. I guess I was just surprised because he was so worried about everyone, and now he doesn't have to be anymore."

"At what cost? That's probably what he's considering now. The fact that he thinks it really wasn't worth it is... huge."

"I can't imagine being in his place now. Seeing everyone after..."

"He'll be okay. We'll make sure of that."

At that moment, Danny noticed Chin, Kono, and Ryan coming toward them. They all looked anxious, like children who wanted to ask for something, but weren't sure whether they should.

Chin was the first to speak. "How is he?"

Danny was getting a little tired of that question. He remembered how Catherine hadn't said anything, and while he knew it was because she was nervous, he almost wished the rest of them would be that way.

"He's getting ready to leave," Danny finally said. It wasn't an answer, but it was all he could think to say.

He saw the way Kono held onto Chin's arm at the announcement, but what drew Danny's attention more was the way the kid, Ryan, pulled away from the group a little. No one else was paying attention to him at that moment, but something about his reaction concerned Danny, and he didn't know why.

Up to this point, Danny hadn't really paid much attention to Ryan unless he had to. He had a lot on his mind after all. But now it seemed like something was happening inside the kid's head, and it didn't look good.

Danny got up from his chair and followed Ryan to the other side of the room where he was absentmindedly picking through a magazine rack. His gray eyes were dull like he'd gone a few days without sleeping. Danny knew that wasn't it though.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Ryan said.

"Sure about that? I mean, I know he lied to you about who he was, but—"

"That's not it," Ryan interrupted, abandoning the pretense of interest in the magazines. He turned to face Danny. "You're taking him away, which is completely understandable, but... but I don't know. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

Danny nodded slowly. "Steve's my friend," he said. "He's your friend too." He shrugged. "Seems like a good enough reason."

"Maybe I'm not as crazy as I thought."

"How's that?"

"I... long story. I just thought that blanket forgiveness wasn't all that common."

"Probably not," Danny said. "Feels a hell of a lot better than being angry, though."

Ryan nodded. Danny could see his eyes redden and his throat constrict. He realized that whatever was going on with this kid was a lot more than just what happened with Steve. There was something else. Still, he tried to be reassuring.

"O'ahu isn't that far away," he said. "I'm sure he'll come and see you."

Ryan shook his head. "You don't get it," he said. "It's not about that at all. It's... he's got a lot going on. He has his own problems."

"Oh, so you think he won't care about yours anymore; is that it?"

"Maybe." Ryan rubbed the back of his head, fluffing the light brown hair out at odd angles.

"Think again," Danny said. "Guy's so preoccupied with other people's problems, he forgets he has any."

Ryan laughed and brushed his hand over the corner of his eye. He didn't say any more, and Danny let him be. He still thought there was something bigger going on, but he wasn't going to press. Steve would be coming out soon anyway.

**H-5-O**

Steve had to sit down. Thankfully, he found the edge of the bed before he ended up on the floor. The room felt like it was spinning around, but there was Catherine, standing completely still, more beautiful than he remembered, though he thought about her every day since the last time he saw her. He'd tried to put her out of his mind because he thought he would never see her again, much less hear those words from her mouth. Steve had given up on that.

But there she was. She'd said she loved him. She didn't move from her place as he sat down on the edge of the bed facing her. She didn't even seem to breathe. It was as if time had stopped, and they were both just sitting there waiting for it to start again.

Then Catherine moved toward him. It was like watching a car crash. He knew she was coming, and he couldn't stop her, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to. And then she was standing in front of him, putting her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her so that his face was buried in her shoulder. She had one hand on his head, the other digging into the back of his shirt.

He tried to say something, anything, but even if he could have found words, he wouldn't have been able to get them past the thick knot in his throat. He knew meeting everyone again would be hard, but he hadn't prepared for this. He didn't think he would need to. The tears started falling, and Steve couldn't stop them.

He wrapped his arms around Catherine's waist and stood up again to hold her as tightly as possible. He kept his head bent to her shoulder. He let her sleeve soak away the tears, but it didn't stop them. He was suffocating on them.

"Cath," he choked on her name. He wasn't sure if he could finish what he needed to say. But through the tears, he managed to say, "I'm so sorry."

**H-5-O**

Ryan watched the others wander aimlessly around the waiting room. They were waiting for the moment they could see their friend again. The older man, who Ryan had just learned was named Joe, stayed in his seat. Ryan didn't think he'd moved since he got there. Danny also seemed to be more relaxed than Chin and Kono, but he'd gotten to see Steve already.

It had been difficult for Ryan not to spill his life story to the artless detective. He somehow made him want to talk about it, and that had only happened once before. They also had something in common. They had both forgiven the unforgivable.

Still Ryan didn't want to give too much away. He didn't know how soon his secret would come out, but he was going to put it off as long as possible. These people already saw him as a kid anyway. They all seemed like really nice people, and he would have liked it if he could spend more time with them, but that wasn't really practical. They were cops; he was living a lie. The two didn't really mix.

Still, he would see Steve one more time before he left, tell him he didn't hold anything against him. It was the least he could do after Steve went to the trouble to find his mom. That didn't turn out so well, but it wasn't Steve's fault.

The room fell into a deeper silence when they heard footsteps in the hallway. Everyone turned to see Steve walking beside Catherine. Ryan wondered what their relationship was like, if she had just forgiven him like that. It looked like it.

Still, Steve looked much worse than before. He looked older, tired, worn out with life. His eyes reflected a dullness that was frightening.

After a dead silent pause, Kono was the first to rush to Steve and half hug, half tackle him. There was no holding back now. She'd kept things bottled up all night, and now she was letting it all out. A string of words Ryan didn't catch flowed out of her mouth. He noticed that she didn't seem to be angry with him either. He thought he might have seen Steve smile at her.

Then Chin was there, his hug wasn't as much of an attack, but Ryan noticed the muscles in his arm tense up to the point that he thought that embrace might have been more painful than the last. They didn't say anything. They didn't have to.

Then came Joe. The man Ryan had regarded as a mystery up until now. He and Steve faced each other for a moment. Steve's face showed more shame and less happiness than before. But Joe took Steve's head in his hands and said something Ryan couldn't hear. Then he hugged Steve, and Ryan got his first glimpse of the younger Steve. The one who lost his mother and father and sister. The one who was afraid and alone.

Then Joe said something everyone heard: "I love you, son."

Ryan saw tears. There was no hiding it, and Steve didn't try. And then Ryan felt his own throat swell up. He thought of all the pain Steve had been through and caused. He thought of these five people who loved him unconditionally. Ryan thought of his father, who must have loved him in spite of his actions to the contrary. He thought of his mother, who must have loved him too, but just couldn't handle it.

Ryan suddenly became insanely jealous. Steve had everything Ryan ever wanted in this small waiting room. The incessant pulling at his heart ever since his mother left was back with full force. He wanted, or needed this kind of love.

But he would never have it. No one would ever love him that much because he could never be as honest as Steve had to be. He could never confess he had thought the same things that led to those crisscrossing scars on Steve's arms. He just hadn't been able to act on them because he wouldn't keep doing to himself what his father had done. It wasn't that he didn't feel like it most of the time.

Somehow, this all made it worse. He came close to having a family in Steve, if only a very small one. He came close to feeling like he could love and be loved by another person without fearing they would hurt or leave him.

But Steve was leaving. It was better for Ryan to say goodbye now and move on than to prolong his pain any more. But as Steve approached him, Ryan could tell this wasn't going to be quick. There was too much to say.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you," were the first words out of Steve's mouth.

Ryan shook his head. "I understand," he said. "It wasn't like you lied about much besides your name. You don't look that much like a Sam anyway."

Steve smirked, though it didn't quite go all the way to his eyes. "Listen, I want you to know that you were a big help to me. It may not have seemed like it, but you made things a lot better for me."

"Same here." Ryan rubbed his neck. "It's been a long time since anyone really knew me like you do. It was nice."

Steve nodded once, though he seemed to be suspecting something. "Ryan, I want to help you," he said. "I don't know what I can do at this point for your mom or your situation, but—"

"You don't have to worry about my mom anymore," Ryan said. "She's dead."

Steve didn't say anything for a good 30 seconds. He stared at Ryan, probably surprised by the bluntness of his tone. But what else could he say?

"I'm sorry," Steve finally said. "I..."

Ryan shook his head. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I was fine before. I'll be okay."

Steve put his hands on Ryan's shoulders, and the weight made him rethink his statement. He wouldn't be okay. He'd never be okay again.

When Steve hugged him, Ryan couldn't pretend anymore. He was a fifteen-year-old who'd just lost his mom and was about to lose everything else he'd ever wanted.

"Don't go," he whispered.

"Come with me," Steve said.


	16. Help Me Help You

**Sorry this is late, but thanks to my beta readers for putting up with me and my late chapters.  
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**Chapter Fifteen "Help Me Help You"  
><strong>"_**Help me help you; they won't be there  
>Help me help you; they won't see<br>And it hurts when you need me, and I can't break your fall."~Thousand Foot Krutch**_

The sun glared from the clear sky as the small boat sped across the waves. It was a little crowded, but for once, no one cared. It was a good day. The sun was shining, and everything was going to be okay. Soon.

Joe leaned his back against the railing, looking across the deck to where Steve was sitting on one of the bench seats with Catherine and Ryan on either side of him.

"Sam Martin?" he asked.

Steve actually smiled. "I thought it was fitting. I finally understood. Never thought you would get involved."

Joe nodded. "Neither did I, but your friend makes a good case."

"Yeah, he's persuasive, isn't he?" Steve looked over to where Danny was standing at the end of the deck near the wheel house. He looked nervous, but Steve wasn't sure if it were just the boat ride or something else.

"So who is Sam Martin?" Kono asked from her place at the bow.

"He was on a team we took to Afghanistan years ago," Joe said. It didn't seem like he was going to say anything else, but Steve did.

"His son died of leukemia, and his wife left him. Just before we left he found out he was losing his house and his mother was probably going to die of MS before we made it home. He threw himself on an IED to save the rest of us."

Joe squinted in the sunlight. A minuscule nod was his only response.

"So that's why you used his name?" Danny said. The others hadn't realized he had been listening.

Steve nodded. "We probably would have died if not for him."

Catherine put her arm behind Steve. Everyone understood the need to be close to him, but no one else thought they could do it without suffocating him.

"I think I remember him," she said. "He was your friend."

Steve nodded. "I knew he was miserable, but he... never would have done that if we weren't all in danger."

"The inspiration for your own falling on the grenade," Danny said. He wasn't being sarcastic. He just said it.

"I _thought_ I was like him," Steve said. "But I wasn't."

"Maybe more than you think," Joe said, crossing his arms. "We all thought we shoulda seen it coming."

Steve shook his head. "Don't."

"Nobody sees that." Everyone looked at Ryan. He'd been quiet since they'd stopped by his apartment to pick up his things. "I'm just saying." He leaned back against the seat.

Steve put his hand on Ryan's arm, and everyone saw something pass between their eyes but couldn't be quite sure what it was. They all sensed something different about Ryan but hadn't thought it appropriate to ask.

**H-5-O**

The team docked at the HPD marina. Danny had been expecting the governor to make an appearance, but he wasn't there. Just a message saying to keep Steve at home for now. Danny wasn't sure if that were for Steve's benefit or something more sinister like house arrest.

Danny put the thought out of his head for the moment. They were going home, and that was all that mattered right now. There was too much going on to try to focus on all of it at once. Danny believed he was correct in assuming that Steve just needed some peace and quiet.

As they walked to the car Steve seemed to notice that they were alone. Danny let him wonder for a second before explaining. "Ryan's staying with Chin and Malia, and Catherine's going back to Pearl because she was supposed to be there yesterday. Something about finalizing her transfer."

"When was all this decided?" Steve looked at Danny, confused.

"One of those times you were staring off into space—yes, you were."

Steve kept walking. He didn't show any signs of responding to anything else Danny had said.

"Why do you not seem happy?" Danny asked.

"It's not that. It's... I just don't want her to make decisions like that because of me."

"She was already transferring before she found out. And maybe it was because of you, but I think that says something important."

"What?"

"She loves you. She's gonna try to be with you any way she can."

"I know."

"You know, but something still bothers you about it."

"Wouldn't it bother you?"

"I don't know. You said you don't want me to understand this."

"How can I love anyone when I can't even look in the mirror? Really, Danny, it makes me sick."

"So you think you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else?"

"It's not even that. I don't even know how to begin to be good enough for her."

"You can't be 'good enough.' You're not the judge here. If I was speaking to him, I'd say that's God, but..."

Steve stopped as they reached Danny's car. He faced Danny and crossed his arms. "Why aren't you speaking to him?"

"I don't know." Danny ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe I should; he brought you back."

"I'd hardly call that a blessing."

"Well, I would. And as I said, you don't get to judge here."

"Fine. Then if God's the one judging me, I'm worse off than before."

"Apparently, he's even more forgiving than I am."

Steve looked into Danny's eyes for a long time. "You believe that?"

"I don't know. It's looking pretty good right now."

Steve looked out at the water, back the way they had come that morning. The ocean and sky stretched as far as he could see. "When I was back there," he said, "I had days where I wasn't even sure what was real and what wasn't, if I was even alive or of it was all some horrible punishment." Steve looked back at Danny. "I guess you never know how valuable it is to have something to believe in until you have nothing. Or forget what you do have."

"You forgot us." Danny looked down.

"I had to. How could I have done it if I was really thinking of you? It wasn't that simple, but in the end, I had to cut off anything that could hold me here... How am I supposed to come back now?"

Danny scuffed his shoes against the pavement. "You rebuild, I guess."

"People aren't buildings, Danny."

"No. No we're not because we can choose to help in that process. Just let us."

"I want to."

Danny reached into his pocket for his keys. "Here." He offered them to Steve.

Steve only looked at him. He didn't take the keys. He didn't even look at them.

"If this is some extended metaphor for what you think you don't deserve—"

"I don't want to drive, Danny." Steve opened the passenger door and got into the car without another word.

**H-5-O**

When they pulled into the driveway of what had been Danny's house for the past several months, Steve got out of the car and headed for the beach, not waiting to see if Danny was following him. He did but at a distance. Danny stood on the edge of the lawn, looking down on the beach where Steve was standing between the two wooden chairs. He wasn't looking out at the ocean; he was looking at the ground.

Danny felt the memory slam into him, and he had to sit down right there in the grass just before the sand. He had been there so many times since that awful night. He'd made his peace, or so he thought, but it all came back with full force, as if it were happening all over again. Steve was dying on the beach.

Danny pulled his knees into his chest and kept his arms wrapped tightly around them. His heart was pounding almost as fast as it had that night. He watched. It was all he could do.

Steve stood with his arms at his sides. He didn't even seem to be breathing, but his shoulders were visibly tensed. He was still looking down at the sand. Danny knew what was going through his friend's head. Steve was reliving the whole thing, just as Danny was. They were miles away from each other again, and Danny didn't know how to cross the distance. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now.

Things had seemed to be going so well that morning. When everyone was together, Steve put on a convincing smile, but now that it was just the two of them, Danny wasn't sure if any of that had been real. He knew it was bad, but he realized in that moment that he had no idea just how damaged Steve was, how much he had done to himself that would have to be undone.

Danny didn't know what he was going to say, but he got up and started walking toward Steve. He was suddenly aware of how tired and stiff he was, how sore his feet were as they trudged through the loose, dry sand. As he reached his former partner, Danny could only reach out and put his hand on Steve's shoulder. His tired fingers dug into the tense muscles under the thin t-shirt sleeve. He wiped his hand over his eyes; there were tears there.

Danny's voice came out raspy but clear: "I love you. You're like my brother, only ten times better than any brother could be—suicide attempt and subsequent fake death notwithstanding."

Steve didn't say anything for a long time, and Danny thought he might not respond at all, but then he turned and pulled Danny into an unexpected embrace. The crushing weight of Steve's arms around his torso caused Danny to temporarily forget how to breathe. He hugged Steve back and felt the shudder running through his body. He felt hot tears splash against his neck, and he whispered, "I want to help you, Steve."

"I know," came the choked response. "I just want to be better."

Exhausted, spent, utterly done, Danny managed the strength to hold onto his friend a little longer and be the strong one for once. "You will be." He tightened his grip around Steve's shoulders. "Just hang on."


	17. Take it Out on Me

**Sorry This chapter has taken so long. I had it mostly done, but was putting off revisions for a long time. I got distracted with my Avengers stories and life and such.  
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**This chapter contains an instance of stronger language than I normally use. I tried writing it differently, and it just didn't work, so I'm sorry if anyone is offended, but I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was necessary.  
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**And finally, thanks to all my faithful readers. I hope some of you are still around.  
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**Chapter Sixteen "Take It Out On Me"  
><strong>**_"It's not worth it; it's not working  
>You wanted it to be picture perfect<br>It's not over; you don't have to throw it away  
>So scream if you wanna; shout if you need<br>Just let it go; take it out on me  
>Run if you need to; snap if it helps you<br>Get control; take it out on me"~Thousand Foot Krutch_**

Governor Denning was having problems of his own. He was being asked to answer for everything Steve had done in the last five months. It was not going well. There was talk of prosecution, of impeachment. He didn't exactly have time to concern himself with his former task force leader's condition, though it should have been his first order of business.

Not that Denning wasn't worried about what would happen to Steve. He was just more worried about his own neck. So he wasn't exactly thrilled when Kono barged into his office, ignoring the swarm of aides who told her he was busy.

Denning waved off his staff. "Something wrong?"

"What isn't?" Kono took a seat across the desk from him. She'd never talked to him like that before, but he could understand why.

"Then you know that I'm dealing with it."

"Are you? Because if you cover your own ass on this, where does that leave Steve? This was your operation; he was under your orders."

"I am well aware of my _orders_, Officer Kalakaua."

"Then you know what you have to do. After everything he's been through, Steve doesn't deserve this."

"In politics, very few people care."

"This isn't about freaking politics! It's about you owning up to what you did. _You_ sent Steve out there. _You_ told him what to do. If you do anything better than Jameson in your career, it should be this."

"So you think I should throw myself under the bus for someone who may or may not ever be stable again?"

"If you gave a single _shit_ about Steve's _stability_, you'd do this for him." Kono stood up. "Five-0 is nothing without him. He's what's been keeping us going all this time, even though we didn't know it. We can survive without you but not without him."

Then she left. Denning watched her go. He listened to the soft click of his door closing, and he rested his chin on his hand. Everything she had said was right. He had been determined to be better than Jameson, to prove that not every politician was corrupt. Maybe he had failed there, but he could spare Steve. He knew exactly how.

**H-5-O**

The house didn't look that different from when he had left. Steve noticed the usual Danny clutter, but it was nothing like the messes he used to make. And there were telltale signs of a little girl living there, pink objects including a Nerf football and a dollhouse in the corner of the living room. Steve was glad Danny had lived in his house. It was just what he had wanted.

The kitchen was a disaster. Dirty dishes and junk food obscured what had once been the most immaculate room in the house. Steve would have plenty of time to clean up.

"You hungry?" Danny shuffled through the mess.

"Maybe we should just order pizza or something." Steve avoided touching any of the debris.

"Yeah, good idea." Danny moved out of the kitchen into the dining room.

Steve followed, noticing that the desk at the far end of the room was also more cluttered than he had left it. He was surprised at Danny using it that much, but since he was now the head of Five-0, it made sense.

Danny went over to the desk and picked up his phone. As he talked to the person on the other end, he began straightening up the desk, moving things around so that the looked more deliberately placed and less like the mess it was. He stopped when he picked up a stack of wrinkled, dirty papers. Steve recognized his own handwriting, even from so far away. Danny hung up the phone and looked up at Steve.

"You still have all of those?" Steve's voice came out scratchy, which he had come to expect.

Danny waved the stack absently. "It helped when I wanted to talk to you." He laid the letters on the table.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Why is that a question? Yeah, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted it to make sense."

"So, what, you just read through them over and over again until... what?"

"Until nothing. It didn't stop. You know, I used to sit on the beach out there—yeah, me—and I would talk. To you. You never said anything back, of course, but it was these—" Danny smacked his hand on the letters. "—that made me still able to hear your voice in my head. So that I'd never forget."

"Why would you want to remember?" Steve turned to the windows, squinting in the afternoon sun.

Danny laughed. His serious, _you're a real piece of work_ laugh. "You need to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Why would I want to remember? Why the hell would I ever let myself forget? Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you." Danny's voice rose to the point that Steve thought he might start shouting.

"It's hard, Danny." Steve still didn't look at him, and his own tone was louder than usual. "To look at you when I know what I've done to you."

"What the hell does 'I forgive you' mean in McGarrett language?" Danny was really shouting now. "Because in English, it means I fucking forgive you!"

Steve looked at him then but only for a second. There was so much he wanted to say that he didn't have the words for. He knew how much it meant that Danny had forgiven him. "I'm sorry, Danny." He barely heard his own voice.

"Will you _stop_ saying that?" Danny began pacing. He ran his hands over his hair repeatedly. Then he stopped and faced Steve again. "Please look at me."

Steve turned his head. He meant it when he said it was hard to look at his friend. It was hard to listen to his voice.

Danny put his hands together, the motion Steve always thought looked like praying for some reason. "I know you're in a really, really bad place and have been for a long time. But the _last_ thing you need to do is avoid me, okay? I know it's hard, but you have to talk to me. You have to say all those dark, impossible things you've been thinking over the past who knows how long. You have to get it out."

Steve smirked, but it felt wrong; it hurt. "Who's the psychiatrist now?" The ubiquitous knot in his throat made the words half mumbled.

"Hey, I mean it." Danny's voice was soft now, almost pleading.

Steve swallowed hard. "I know."

**H-5-O**

Ryan looked up at the beautiful woman in the doorway holding a sleeping newborn. He felt as if he were dreaming except for the inextricable knots in his stomach that had been there ever since he came home to find intruders in his apartment. He wasn't entirely sure how he got here. He was staying with a family he didn't know because of a friend he didn't really know either. They had no reason to help him. And what happened when they discovered how old he really was?

He couldn't do anything about it now. He'd stay for a while anyway. Steve wanted him there, and it was the least he could do. Maybe he could help, though he really had no idea how.

Chin led Ryan to the door and introduced him to Malia and Steven Daniel, who now needed a nickname so as not to be confused with his namesakes. They went inside, and Chin showed Ryan to his temporary room.

"It's not much." Chin flipped on the light switch. "But we never have any company, so it's nice and clean."

"You saw where I lived." Ryan laid his bag on the bed. "This is five stars in comparison." He looked at the white curtains and the wood floor, the book shelves and the green lamp beside the bed. He'd never lived anywhere this nice.

Chin seemed to sense something was bothering Ryan because he lingered in the doorway. "You okay?"

Ryan looked back, tearing his eyes away from the domestic splendor. "Uh, no. Just thinking."

There was a smile, and knowing look in Chin's eyes. "You and Steve are close."

Ryan gave his best impression of a nonchalant smirk. "I think we've had this conversation."

"He talked to you about what happened?"

"Yeah. Not a lot. We didn't ask questions much. It worked better that way."

"But you knew some things."

"Well, there was that one night. Two days ago. He found out where my mom was living. Found out some other stuff too. I guess it all came out then. For me anyway. Seems like he has a lot more going on than I thought."

"Welcome to the club." Chin smiled. "But you look like you have a lot on your mind too. Something you said this morning made me wonder. When Steve was talking about his friend. You said no one sees that coming."

"Well, did you?"

"No. None of us did. I was just wondering how you knew that."

Ryan shuffled his feet. "It was my dad."

**H-5-O**

Steve sat on the back porch watching the sun go down. He couldn't count the number of times he had done this. The image of the golden red sky burning out every night was something he took for granted. But now he realized that it had been months since he had just watched the sunset. It had been months since he had enjoyed something for the sake of it. Sitting alone with the last rays of the day's light soaking into his made him want to freeze time right there and never leave.

The back door opened and closed. Steve didn't turn around. He knew there was only one other person in the house anyway. He didn't mind being interrupted. Maybe a year ago, he would have considered it an invasion of privacy, but now he wanted to be around people. As much as it hurt, as much as he hated himself when he looked through their eyes, Steve didn't want to be alone.

Danny sat down in one of the other chairs and didn't say anything. Steve didn't expect him to. There was hardly anything to say after their conversation earlier. Steve had realized that they would have to pace themselves if they wanted to come out of this whole thing sane.

Of course, Steve wasn't ignoring the fact that he might be arrested very soon, so maybe they wouldn't have to deal with it after all. That was a horrible way of thinking about it, but he had to take it into consideration. He may have been following orders, but Steve had known what he was doing. There was a lot to work out with that. He knew other people were supposed to be taking care of things, but eventually he would have to answer for himself. There couldn't just not be consequences.

Danny spoke, interrupting Steve's thoughts. "We'll have to tell everyone soon."

Steve turned to look at him. "Everyone?"

"Yeah. You know, Grace, Rachel, Max, Kamekona... You know a lot of people."

"I didn't think about it."

"Really?"

"Really. Do you think I could have left if I had thought of everyone who knows me?"

"I don't know. Maybe you just thought it wouldn't matter to them."

Steve nodded. "Maybe."

"Max was upset that he couldn't do your autopsy."

Steve laughed. It wasn't just his light chuckle that might not even be a laugh. It was the real thing. He thought about Max expressing his disappointment. He could hear him saying it. "I'll have to tell him myself."

"Don't sneak up on him."

"How do you not sneak up on Max?"

"True. Okay, but scare him as little as possible, okay?"

"Okay. He really said that?"

"Said what? That he was upset? Yes. I told him I thought you would have wanted him to do it."

"That's... nice?"

"No, it's really not, but to him it meant the world."

"I guess I would, now that you mention it. Want him to do my autopsy, I mean. Assuming the need ever came up."

"Let's not assume that, shall we?"

"That's fair."


End file.
